And now, all being ready, Justin invited his guest to seat himself at the board.
“But where are the men whom you ordered to follow you, captain?” inquired the host.
“Oh, they are straggling in, I suppose. They will be here presently, doubtless. But, my young friend, pray don’t waste this brandy on them, whatever you do. It is genuine old Otard, such as you cannot buy for love or money in the States, though you may pay highly for a lot of drugged Yankee rum that sells under its honored name. Besides, my fellows wouldn’t appreciate it, and it is desecration of good liquor to give it to men who don’t know it when they taste it. Give them the cheapest whisky that you may happen to have to throw away,” said the captain, filling for himself another glass, which he held up to the light with the glance of a connoisseur.
“Indeed, I think I am no better judge of liquors than the most ignorant of your men. We have a small cask of whisky, and your men are welcome to it, though whether it is good, bad or indifferent, I cannot tell,” said Justin, who was busy in cutting up the chicken pie, with which he liberally helped his guest.
“Chicken, by all that’s gracious! Did you save chickens enough to stock your poultry yards, my friend?” inquired the captain.
“We saved a few, from which we raised other broods,” answered Justin, rather reservedly, for it did not escape his notice that while Captain Spear put his host through a rather close cross-examination, he was not at all communicative on his own affairs.
And neither had Justin lost sight of the mystery of the strange flag, but with something of the old Bedouin sentiment of hospitality, which permits the guest, whoever he may be, to come and go unquestioned, Justin forbore to make inquiries, at least for the present. He hoped that the captain himself would soon volunteer information.
In this he was disappointed. The captain ate heartily of the chicken pie, and passed from that to the ham, and from the ham to the cheese, washing down the whole with abundant draughts of old brandy, which seemed to take no more effect on him as yet than so much pure water.
At last, when the stranger had eaten enough and was satisfied, and Judith had taken out the remnants of the feast, and divided them among the men who were sitting grouped outside the grotto door, Justin thought the time had come when, without impropriety, he might question his guest. He began in a delicate, distant, roundabout manner, on the common ground of politics.
“I need not ask you if you are a native American, Captain Spear. I see that you are.”