They inclined their heads graciously and Pedro raised his eyes to the third, some paces in the rear. As he bowed again he was conscious of a buxom figure, strangely bedight in a rusty corselet and a man’s sombrero which showed marks of the hard journey, its limp rim hanging tow about a face which he saw only partly. She was astride, he noted, with a huge battle-axe at her saddle-bow, and a ponderous spur on a foot of goodly size. The lady glanced at him, gasped, reined up with vigor, and shouted in a voice of joyful surprise, "_Pedro!_" Pedro straightened with a jerk and staggered against the wall. "Pedro!" she shouted again. She urged her steed across the street with a series of jabs of her spurs, and tumbled out of the saddle, a confusion of petticoats, arms, legs, and a flapping sombrero. Dropping the reins, she charged the cook, who stood transfixed to the wall, powerless. "Pedro, as I live!" she cried, seizing his hands. "Oh, Pedro, thou graceless, fat, one-legged darling of a cook, I was never more joyed in my life!" Pedro struggled in her grasp, speechless, his face reddening violently, as she held him at arm’s length, surveying him with pleasure. "And ’t is thou!" she exclaimed. "Hold, whilst I look at thee—stop squirming, thou lubber! Yes, I’d know thee in a brigade, even did I not see thy peg. But why dost not greet me, Pedro? Greet me, sinner! Dost think I’ve journeyed a thousand leagues over sea and mountain to be received like a cold omelet? Fie, Pedro!" He gained his voice with an effort. "Why—my greetings, Señora Bolio!" he panted. "What the devil—I’m glad to see thee well!—but release my hands, prithee!—we’re in the street, woman. Thou’lt stir a scandal!" "A scandal!" returned the señora, scornfully. "Soapsuds! A scandal, forsooth! What care I for these pagans? I’m glad to see thee." "Of course—of course!" gasped Pedro. "But look to thy mule!—he’s wandering away, reins down. Let me go! I’ll—I’ll catch him." "Let him wander, Pedro, and may the fiend ride him with hot spurs! He hath jolted the life out of me these many days. But, art not surprised to see me? Say!" "Name of a martyr! Yes!" said Pedro, desperately. "But loose my hands, I tell thee! We’re observed." "Oh, Pedro, thou ’rt so coy, thou dear old cherub!"—and she laughed joyfully. "Oh, coy!" groaned Pedro. "Thunder and Mars! Dost not see the town watching us? And look at the rear guard!" The troopers had halted, and were observing the little drama with interest. "Brava, Señora!" called one, encouragingly. "His timidity is that of inexperience. Persist, and he’ll succumb, my head upon it!" The lady turned. "What now?" she demanded, indignantly, facing them with hands upon her hips. "Who gave you command to halt? Jog on, jog on! Circulate! Go, you singular accumulation of veal and old iron! Wend, worry on, flit, you most unusual galaxy of junk and poultice! You grotesque pack of——"