CHAPTER VII
In the City of Goyaz
There was no such thing as an hotel in Goyaz capital. The nearest approach to it was a filthy rest-house for muleteers, which was, furthermore, already full. Against my usual custom—as I never, unless absolutely necessary, make use of the credentials I carry for my private needs—I had, therefore, to apply to the Presidente or Governor of the Province to find some sort of accommodation in the town for my animals, men, and myself.
"Take off your spurs before you enter!" roughly shouted a sentry at the Governor's palace—a huge barn-like structure—just as I was stooping to do that before being asked.
"Do not stand on the pavement," said the sentry again, anxious to display his authority.
Being a law-abiding person I shifted to one side.
"Do not stop under the Presidente's window!" cried the policeman angrily once more, digging me in the ribs with his bayonet.
I was beginning to be sorry I had not brought an aeroplane with me in order to complete my toilet in the air before entering so sacred a precinct, but patience being one of my chief virtues I transferred myself to the remotest point across the square, where, stork-like, upon one foot at a time I was able—this time undisturbed—to remove both spurs.
"Take off your hat before entering," again shouted the policeman, as I was still some fifteen yards from the door.