"Well, what of the other?" asked Frank, impatiently.
"Señors," purred Mazaro, "he is de wor-r-rst fightar ever leeve! He like-a to fight fo' de sport of keelin'. Take-a my advice, señors, an' go 'way from New Orle'n'. Yo' make ver' gre't mistake to get in troub' wid dem."
"Thank you for your kind advice," said Frank, quietly. "I presume it is well meant, but it is wasted. This is a free country, and a dozen fire-eaters like Colonel La Salle Vallier and Mr. Rolf Raymond cannot drive us out of New Orleans till we are ready to go. Eh, professor?"
"Well, I guess not!" rumbled the little man, stiffening up and looking as fierce as he could.
"Oh, ver' well, ver' well," said Mazaro, lifting his eyebrows, the ghost of a scornful smile on his face. "You know-a your own biz. Good-day, señors."
"Good-day, sir."
They passed through the crowd and sought their carriage, which was waiting for them, although the driver had begun to think they had deserted him.
The procession, which had been broken up by the stampeded steers, was again forming, making it evident that the pleasure-loving people were determined that the unfortunate occurrence should not ruin the day.
The Queen of Flowers and her subjects had vanished, and the flower barge was a wreck, so a part of the programme could not be carried out.
The procession formed without the flower barge, and was soon on its way once more, the band playing its liveliest tune.