Page:Our Neighbor-Mexico.djvu/168

 158 park opened out for miles, hard, smooth, carpeted with short, dry grass—how he did fly! So did my coward lips from their color. I was in no danger of witching this world with my horsemanship. "Muy mal" (very bad) was the muttered judgment of my score of Mexican escorts, and so was it mine.



There was a general in our troop—called Heneral here (another specimen of the contrary style of this people, for Cock-eral would be by far a more proper designation). This G —, H — , or C — eral was a cavalry officer all through the war. He had noticed what fine horses I had got, and how poorly I rode them, and he had had a suspicion that this one would fall to him; so he had offered early to exchange his easy pacer for my furious charger. In a fit of vain glory I had declined. But that park, grass, and gamboling were enough for me. I was willing to swap horses in