Beckoning with a flash of white teeth underneath his ferocious moustache the dragoon sergeant took them to the barracks. These were another long building on the right of the first building, fronting upon the west side of the square and protected by a wall with a court inside.
At a sign from the sergeant they stacked their muskets and hung their pistols, in the court. Then they were led in to supper.
“Sure, we’re goin’ to be comfortable,” Freegift uttered, glancing around as they ate. “The food is mighty warmin’—what you call the seasonin’? Pepper, ain’t it, same as we got, above? Yes.”
“Did you hear what they call that other buildin’, where we were took first?” asked Jake Carter, of Stub.
“The Palace of the Governors, the soldiers said.”
“Palace!” Jake snorted. “It’s more like the keep of a bomb-proof fort. I’ve dreamed of palaces, but never such a one. There’s nothin’ for a governor to be so high and uppish about.”
“The cap’n gave him tit for tat, all right,” asserted William Gordon. “We’ve got a verse or two of Yankee Doodle in us yet!”
They finished supper and shoved back their cowhide benches.
“We’re to go where we plaze, ain’t it?” queried Hugh. “So long as we keep bounds? Well, I’m for seein’ the town whilst I can.”