By the same road that I had reached the village the evening before, a horseman was descried galloping along at his utmost speed. All eyes were turned upon the new-comer, who appeared to be a stranger, and whom I recognized as one of the horsemen who had interrupted my game with Cecilio. The unknown alighted, and, without saying a word, tied his horse to one of the wooden pillars of a house; then, still silent, he stepped to the estrade, drew his machete, at whose hilt fluttered a bow of red ribbons, with its point traced a circle in the sand, and then stuck his sword in the centre.
A dead silence welcomed this strange visitant. The sword stuck in the ground seemed to me to convey a defiance to all the village. The antagonist desired by the rival of Calros appeared to have stepped in at the proper time. The general gaze was now directed to the former boaster, but he evidently did not feel inclined to take up this unlooked-for challenge. The stranger, who looked like one of those Paladins on whom a vow of silence has been imposed, advanced as haughtily as he had come to one of the ventorillos, called for a glass of brandy, and raised it to his mouth; but, with the air of a man who disdains to assist his courage by artificial stimulants, instead of drinking it, he tossed the liquor over his shoulder. He then cast upon all the by-standers a proud glance of defiance.
All the villagers viewed the unknown with admiration, but none seemed so impatient to measure their strength with this brilliant champion as Calros. If the reader remember, he was not in favor with Sacramenta, owing to the affair of the bow of red ribbons. Now at the hilt of the stranger's sword hung a bow of ribbons of the very color she wanted.
