The
exaltation of liquor, however, appeared only to intensify his
characteristics: his face became more lugubrious and melancholy;
his manner more ceremonious and dignified; and, erect and stiff in
his saddle from the waist upwards, but leaning from side to side
with the motion of his horse, like the tall mast of some laboring
sloop, he "loped" away towards the House of the Lost Mission. Once
or twice he broke into sentimental song. Strangely enough, his
ditty was a popular Spanish refrain of some matador's aristocratic
inamorata:--
Do you see my black eyes?
I am Manuel's Duchess,--
sang Pereo, with infinite gravity. His horse's hoofs seemed to
keep time with the refrain, and he occasionally waved in the air
the long leather thong of his bridle-rein.
It was quite late when he reached La Mision Perdida. Turning into
the little lane that led to the stable-yard, he dismounted at a
gate in the hedge which led to the summerhouse of the old Mision
garden, and, throwing his reins on his mustang's neck, let the
animal precede him to the stables. The moon shone full on the
inclosure as he emerged from the labyrinth. With uncovered head he
approached the Indian mound, and sank on his knees before it.
The next moment he rose, with an exclamation of terror, and his hat
dropped from his trembling hand. Directly before him, a small,
gray, wolfish-looking animal had stopped half-way down the mound on
encountering his motionless figure.
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