has been traveling—the heat precludes a gait faster than a moderate amble—he judges that he has covered three of the four miles to Santos.
Hitching the amiable Rozinante, he throws himself upon the turf beneath the foliage-massed branches of the royal palm, and lights a cigar; as he smokes he grows thoughtful. And from rumination he drifts into moralizing, addressing himself to Rozinante.
"Look here, Rozinante; if you have any horse sense that you're not using you might assist your master to extricate himself from somewhat of a quandary. As you know, I came to Cuba principally on business for my paper, incidentally to trail down a murder mystery and again incidentally to follow a fair face belonging to the beautiful Louise Hathaway. A good many chaps in my place would have fallen hopelessly in love with Miss Hathaway at first sight, but I—well, that is not the cause of my quandary. If it were, I could easily dismiss it with a philosophical 'there is no accounting for the tastes of most women.' Ah, no, Rozinante; it is something far more serious; for what I want to ask you, Rozinante, is whether you believe that I, in my old age, have been so indiscreet as to fall in love?"
But Rozinante, being a well-bred equine, declines to poke his nose into young people's affairs and continues his grass-cropping.
"See how the case stands, Rozinante," continues Jack, tossing a pebble at his four-footed companion to enforce attention. "On the one hand is the Senorita Juanita de Quesada, the acknowledged Pearl of the Antilles, the adored of all the beaux in Santiago; Juanita, the beautiful, the accomplished, and the only child of the wealthy and elderly Don Manuel de Quesada, who is likely to become the president de facto of this cheerful country if the yellow fever continues to wilt the imported flower of the chivalry of Spain. On the other hand, Rozinante, look at me."
At this moment Rozinante lifts his head and blinks comically at Ashley, who grins back in the best of humors.
