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The alcalde and Don Rafael were eloquent in grave encomiums of his worth and regret for his folly, as they at last left the reduction-works together. They had agreed that a letter must be written to the American consul in the city of Mexico, with full particulars, and that he should be asked to communicate the sad event to the family of the deceased; but as several days, or even weeks, must necessarily elapse before he could be heard from, it was decided that the murdered man should be buried upon the following day. To wait longer was both useless and unusual. And so, these matters being satisfactorily arranged, the alcalde and administrador, both perhaps ready for breakfast, parted.

The latter at the gate of the hacienda met the major-domo, who whispered to him mysteriously, and finally led him to the courtyard, where the forsaken mule was munching his fodder. A pair of sandals lay there. Pedro, had he wished, could have shown a striped blanket and hat that he had picked up near the gateway and concealed; but the mule and sandals were patent to all.