But, in truth, it is not so very different from what is daily, hourly, occurring among ourselves. It is dishonesty under a different garb and guise--a little bolder than that of our burglar--a little more picturesque than that practised by the fustian-clad garotter of our streets. And let it be remembered, in favour of Mexican morality--that, for one daring bandolero upon the road, we have a hundred sneaking thieves of the attorney type--stock-jobbers--promoters of swindling speculations-- trade and skittle sharpers--to say nothing of our grand Government swindle of over-taxation--all of which are known only exceptionally in the land of Moctezuma. In point of immorality--on one side stripping it of its picturesqueness, on the other of its abominable plebbishness--I very much doubt, whether the much-abused people of Mexico need fear comparison with the much-bepraised people of England. For my part, I most decidedly prefer the robber of the _road_, to him of the _robe_; and I have had some experience of both. This digression has been caused by my recalling an encounter with the former, that occurred to me in La Puebla--on that same night when I found myself forestalled. CHAPTER EIGHT. A RIVAL TRACKED TO HIS ROOF-TREE. That I _was_ forestalled, there could be no mistake. There was no ambiguity about the meaning of the phrase: "God be with you, dear Francis!" The coldest heart could not fail to interpret it-- coupled with the act to which it had been an accompaniment. My heart was on fire. There was jealousy in it; and, more: there was anger. I believed, or fancied, that I had cause. If ever woman had given me encouragement--by looks and smiles--that woman was Mercedes Villa-Senor. All done to delude me--perhaps but to gratify the slightest whim of her woman's vanity? She had shown unmistakeable signs of having noted my glances of admiration. They were too earnest to have been misunderstood. Perhaps she may have been a little flattered by them? But, whether or no, I was confident of having received encouragement. Once, indeed, a flower had been dropped from the _balcon_. It had the air of an accident--with just enough design to make the act difficult of interpretation. With the wish father to the thought, I accepted it as a challenge; and, hastening along the pavement, I stooped, and picked the flower up. What I then saw was surely an approving smile--one that seemed to say: "in return for your sword-knot." I thought so at the time; and fancied I could see the tassel, protruding from a plait in the bodice of the lady's dress--shown for an instant, and then adroitly concealed.