A splendid animal he was,--one of those magnificent sheep-dogs of New Mexico, who, though half-wolf themselves, will successfully defend a flock of sheep from the attack of wolves, or even of the more savage bear. The finest sheep-dogs in the world are they, and one of the finest of his race was Cibolo. His mistress, having ascertained that he was uninjured, stepped upon the banqueta, and reached up towards a singular-looking object that hung over a peg in the wall. The object bore some resemblance to a string of ill-formed sausages. But it was not that, though it was something quite as good for Cibolo, who, by his sparkling eyes and short pleased whimpers, showed that he knew what it was. Yes, Cibolo had not to be initiated into the mysteries of a string of tasajo. Dried buffalo-meat was an old and tried favourite; and the moment it reached his jaws, which it did immediately after, he gave proof of this by the earnest manner in which he set to work upon it. The pretty Rosita, still a little apprehensive, once more peeped through the cactus-fence to assure herself that no one was near. But this time some one _was_ near, and the sight did not cause her any fear,--quite the contrary. The approach of a young man in a blue manga, mounted upon a richly-caparisoned horse, had a contrary effect altogether, and Rosita's little heart now beat with confidence. This young horseman was Don Juan the ranchero. He rode straight up to the opening, and seeing the guera cried out in a frank friendly voice, "_Buenos dias, Rosita_!" The reply was as frank and friendly--a simple return of the salutation-- "_Buenos dias, Don Juan_!" "How is the Senora your mother to-day?" "_Muchas gracias_, Don Juan! as usual she is. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" "_Hola_!" exclaimed Don Juan. "What are you laughing at, Rosita?" "Ha! ha! ha! Saw you nothing of the fine soldiers?" "True, I did. I met the troop as I came down, going up the valley in a gallop, and the Comandante riding far ahead, as if the Apaches were after him. In truth, I thought they had met the Indios bravos--for I know that to be their usual style of riding after an interview with these gentry." "Ha! ha! ha!" still laughed the little blonde, "but did you notice nothing odd about the officer?" "I think I did. He looked as though he had ridden through the chapparal; but I had scarce a glance at him, he passed so quickly. He gave _me_ one that was anything but friendly. No doubt he remembers the loss of his gold onzas at San Juan. Ha! ha! But, dear Rosita, what may you be laughing at? Have the soldiers been here? Anything happened?"