'Then they'd walk straight into the millennium,' said Jack, sagely,
'for their cruelty seems to be an instinct.'

'But how beautifully they ride, too!' said Polly. 'Mamma and I were
sitting on the hotel piazza the other day, watching two young
Spaniards who were performing feats of horsemanship. They dropped
four-bit pieces on the dusty road, and riding up to them at full
speed clutched them from the ground in some mysterious way that was
perfectly wonderful. Then Nick Gutierrez mounted a bucking horse,
and actually rolled and lighted a cigarette while the animal bucked
with all his might.'

'See that cunning, cunning muchachita, mamma!' cried Bell; for, as
they stopped at the top of the hill to let the horses breathe, one of
the little Mexican children ran after them, holding out a handful of
glowing yellow poppies.

She was distractingly pretty, with a beauty that is short-lived with
the people of her race. The afternoon sun shone down fiercely on her
waving coal-black locks, and brought a rich colour to her nut-brown
cheek; she had one little flimsy, ragged garment, neither long,
broad, nor thick, which hung about her picturesquely; and, with her
soft, dark, sleepy eyes, the rows of little white teeth behind her
laughing red mouth, and the vivid yellow blossoms in her tiny
outstretched hand, she was a very charming vision.

'Como te llamas, muchachita?' (What is your name, little one?) asked
Bell, airing her Spanish, which was rather good.