Catalina--her situation was pleasant, yet painful--painful, because embarrassing. She smiled, then blushed, uttered a soft "_Gracias, cavallero_!" yet hesitated a moment whether to take up the trophy. A scowling father had started to his feet on one side, on the other a scowling lover. The last was Roblado. "Insolent!" cried he, seizing the plume, and flinging it to the earth; "insolent!" Carlos bent down from his saddle, once more laid hold of the plume, and stuck it under the gold band of his hat. Then, turning a defiant glance upon the officer, he said, "Don't lose your temper, Captain Roblado. A jealous lover makes but an indifferent husband." And transferring his look to Catalina, he added with a smile, and in a changed tone, "Gracias, senorita!" As he said this he doffed his sombrero, and, waving it gracefully, turned his horse and rode off. Roblado half drew his sword, and his loud "Carrajo!" along with the muttered imprecations of Don Ambrosio, reached the ears of the cibolero. But the captain was far from brave, with all his swagger; and seeing the long _machete_ of the horseman strapped over his hips, he vented his spite in threats only, and suffered Carlos to depart. The incident had created no small excitement, and a good deal of angry feeling. The cibolero had roused the indignation of the aristocracy, and the jealousy and envy of the democracy; so that, after all his brilliant performances, he was likely to leave the field anything but a favourite. The wild words of his strange old mother had been widely reported, and national hatred was aroused, so that his skill called forth envy instead of admiration. An angel indeed, should he have been to have won friendship there--he an Americano--a "heretico"--for in this far corner of the earth fanaticism was as fierce as in the Seven-hilled City itself during the gloomiest days of the Inquisition! Mayhap it was as well for Carlos that the sports were now ended, and the fiesta about to close. In a few minutes the company began to move off. The mules, oxen, and asses, were yoked to the carretas--the rancheros and rancheras climbed inside the deep boxes; and then, what with the cracking of quirts, the shouts of drivers, and the hideous screaming of the ungreased axles, a concert of sounds arose that would have astonished any human being, except a born native of the soil. In half-an-hour the ground was clear, and the lean coyote might be seen skulking over the spot in search of a morsel for his hungry maw. CHAPTER NINE.