Being by this time well acquainted with Roberto and his betrothed, I laughingly suggested one afternoon to the two daughters and himself that it would be a good idea, as a means of finding out exactly what Enrique’s intentions were, for me to kiss the Señorita Hortensia one day when Enrique called, doing it in such a manner that the bashful lover could not fail to see, but so that his witnessing the act should appear an accident. The señorita, being full of girlish fun, had no objection, and so it came to pass that the very next afternoon, when we saw Enrique coming over, Miss Hortensia and I repaired to a very secluded spot upon the veranda, but one which was clearly visible from the road. There, in plain view of the approaching Enrique, I administered the salute--much to my satisfaction. If I could have foreseen its outcome, however, I should certainly have thought twice about my action. Enrique saw me kiss the señorita just as he was dismounting, and, with an almost imperceptible start, he remounted his horse and galloped away. Then things began to happen. Hortensia--girl-like--retired to her room and commenced to weep, while her sister Leonia became very distant and chilly in her manner towards me, impressing upon me that if anything unpleasant occurred it would be all my fault. The only ones with whom I seemed to be upon anything like decent terms were the son and the elder people, who knew nothing about the state of miniature warfare I had thoughtlessly provoked. Dinner that evening, in consequence, was a very formal affair. As, somewhat disconsolately, I pondered over the matter that night before retiring, I resolved to hunt out Enrique early next day, explain things fully, and endeavour to bring about a reconciliation. Having settled the affair satisfactorily in my own mind, I climbed into bed for the night, and, after reading a short while, dropped off to sleep, leaving a lamp burning at my bedside. How long I slept I do not know, but suddenly something woke me, and I opened my eyes to behold, standing at the foot of the bed, calmly surveying my person, a disreputable-looking Indian! In his right hand he held a “machete,” or huge cane knife, about four feet long, and as I watched him he ran his finger along the edge, seemingly to ascertain whether or not it was sharp enough for the business he intended it for. Grabbing my pillow, I sprang to my feet on the bed and backed against the wall--just in time to catch a heavy blow from the machete upon the pillow, which I held in front of me as a shield. For the moment I had forgotten all about the revolver which I usually kept under my head, and which now lay exposed in the lamplight. As I reached for it the would-be assassin’s nerve failed him, and with a rush he fled out of the door. A moment later I heard him mount a horse and make off at a gallop down the road.