What was to hinder him to turn ranchero, and farm or graze on his own account? It would be far more respectable, and would give him a higher standing in the settlement. Nothing to hinder him. He would do so; but first one more journey to the plains--one more visit to his Waco friends, who had promised him--Ha! it was this very promise that was the keystone of all his hopes. The silk dress for Rosita, the luxuries for his old mother, the new house, the farm, were all pleasant dreams to Carlos; but he indulged a dream of a still pleasanter nature--a dream that eclipsed them all; and his hopes of its realisation lay in that one more visit to the country of the Wacoes. Carlos believed that his poverty alone was the barrier that separated him from Catalina. He knew that her father was not, properly speaking, one of the "rico" class. True, he was a rico now: but only a few years ago he had been a poor "gambucino"--poor as Carlos himself. In fact, they had once been nearer neighbours; and in his earlier days Don Ambrosio had esteemed the boy Carlos fit company for the little Catalina. What objection, then, could he have to the cibolero--provided the latter could match him in fortune? "Certainly none," thought Carlos. "If I can prove to him that I, too, am a `rico,' he will consent to my marrying Catalina. And why not? The blood in my veins--so says my mother--is as good as that of any hidalgo. And, if the Wacoes have told me the truth, one more journey and Carlos the cibolero will be able to shew as much gold as Don Ambrosio the miner!" These thoughts had been running in his mind throughout the whole of his homeward journey. Every day--every hour--did he build his aery castles; every hour did he buy the silk dress for Rosita--the tea, coffee, and chocolate for his mother; every hour did he erect the new rancho, buy the farm, show a fortune in gold-dust, and demand Catalina from her father! _Chateaux en Espagne_! Now that he was close to his home, these pleasant visions grew brighter and seemed nearer; and the countenance of the cibolero was radiant with joy. What a fearful change was soon to pass over it! Several times he thought of spurring on in advance, the sooner to enjoy the luxury of his mother's and sister's welcome; and then he changed his mind again. "No," muttered he to himself; "I will stay by the atajo. I will better enjoy the triumph. We shall all march up in line, and halt in front of the rancho. They will think I have some stranger with me, to whom belong the mules! When I announce them as my own they will fancy that I have turned Indian, and made a _raid_ on the southern provinces, with my stout retainers. Ha! ha! ha!" And Carlos laughed at the conceit.