"By all of them," he said quietly.
"Five in all," returned Cruz—"three by Maria, as you know—two by my first woman—and one other. I do not count him."
"Well, you one-eyed old reprobate!" muttered Bud in his throat, but he passed it off and returned smiling to the charge.
"Where does your boy live now?" he asked with flattering solicitude, the better to make him talk, "and is he old enough to understand the pictures?"
"Ah, yes!" beamed Mendez, "he is twelve years old. He lives with his mother now—and my little daughter, too. Their mama is the woman of the mayordomo of the Señor Aragon—a bad man, very ugly—she is not married to him."
"But with you—" suggested Bud, regarding him with a steely stare.
"Only by the judge!" explained Mendez virtuously. "It was a love-match and the priest did not come—so we were married by the judge. Then this bad mayordomo stole her away from me—the pig—and I married Maria instead. Maria is a good woman and I married her before the priest—but I love my other children too, even though they are not lawful."
"So you married your first wife before the judge," observed Bud cynically, "and this one before the priest. But how could you do that, unless you had been divorced?"
"Ah, señor," protested Mendez, holding out his hands, "you do not understand. It is only the church that can really marry—the judge does it only for the money. Maria is my true wife—and we have three nice children—but as I am going through La Fortuna I should like to show the picture paper to my boy."
Bud regarded him in meditative silence, then he rose up and began a determined search for the funny sheet.