"Este bueño?" inquired Juan.
"Si mui bueño. Juan, do you read American writing?"
"Chiquito," was answered, with a slight shrug.
"What is the news in the el-grand Ciudad?"
"They have a strong ox to pull the ropes, now Santa Anna is at the head. Bravura!" and the ranchero tossed his hat, regardless of the place.
It was, however, no part of Mazzolin's policy to allow him for one moment to forget the reverence due the marble images that looked so calmly down from their niches, and with a stern glance he pointed to them, crossing himself as he did so. Juan went down on his knees, and with an "Ave Maria," and a Mexican dollar (which he laid on the altar), quieted his conscience.
"Señor Austin is in the Calaboose," he said, after a pause.
Mazzolin started, and looked keenly at him, as if striving to read his inmost thoughts.
"You must be mistaken. Juan; there is no mention of it in my letter?" he said, in a tone of one fearing to believe good news.
"Not at all, Padre. We started together—there were fifteen of us—and after we had come a long way, so far as Saltillo, some of Santa Anna's cavaleros overtook us, and carried Señor Americano back with them, and said they had orders to do it, for he was no friend to our nation. I know, for I heard for myself."