Roldan wondered if
anything would ever induce him to sacrifice his dignity like that. (It
may be remarked here, as this history has only to do with the famous
Californian's boyhood, that the day came when he could bow the knee to
the fair sex with as graceful an ardour as did he not employ his sterner
moments making laws and enforcing them.) The older folk travelled in
carretas, the conveyance of the country, a springless wagon set on
wheels cut from the solid thickness of the tree. It was driven by
gananes, sitting astride the mustangs and singing lustily. The interior
was lined with satin and padded, but was probably uncomfortable enough.
Everybody looked smiling and happy, and a number of lads left their
respective parties and cantered over to Rafael and his guests. A few
moments later they all galloped at the top speed of their much-enduring
mustangs to a great clump of oaks, where they dismounted and listened
with breathless interest to the adventures of Roldan and Adan. All had
been drafted, and must leave for barracks with the new year. They
complimented the adventurers in a curious mixture of stately Spanish and
eager youthfulness, and their admiration was so apparent that our heroes
would have doubled the dangers of the past on the spot.
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