"Well, the last ship I was in traded along the western coast, putting in at every little port, so I picked up a good deal of the language, for we were out here nearly six months. The ship I have just left did the same, so I have had nearly a year on this coast, and having learned Latin at school, of course it helped me very much. And you, señor, how do you come to speak English?"
"I have been down for the past six months in Valparaiso, staying with a relation who has a house there, and my greatest friends there were some young Englishmen of my own age, sons of a merchant. My father had spoken of my paying a visit to your States some day, and therefore I was glad of the opportunity of learning the language. This, señor, is the house of my friends."
As Harland saw that his companion would take no denial, he followed him into the house. The young Mexican led the way to a pretty room with windows to the ground, opening on to a garden.
"You are late, Señor Juan," a gentleman said, rising from his seat; but before the young man could reply, a girl of fifteen or sixteen years old cried out: "Madre Maria, he is wounded!"
"It is nothing serious, and I had almost forgotten it till just now it began to smart. I have two, or, I think, three stabs on my left arm; they are not very deep, as I twisted my cloak round it when I was attacked. But it would have been a very serious business had it not been for this gentleman, whom I wish to introduce to you, Don Guzman, as the saviour of my life. He is an American gentleman, the son of a wealthy ship-owner of Boston, but, owing to some slight disagreement with his father, he has worked his way out here as a sailor. I ventured to promise that you would extend your hospitality to him."
"My house is at your service, señor," the Mexican said courteously. "One who has rendered so great a service to my friend Don Juan Sarasta, is my friend also. Christina, ring the bell and tell the servants to bring hot water and clothes, and then do you go to your room while we attend to Don Juan's injuries."
The wounds proved to be by no means serious; they were all on the forearm, and, having to pierce through six or seven inches of cloth, had not penetrated very far. They had, however, bled freely, and although the young man laughed at them as mere scratches, he looked pale from the loss of blood.
"A few bottles of good wine, and I shall be all right again."
"I must apologize for not having asked you before," Señor Guzman said to Harland, when the wounds were bandaged, "but have you supped?"
"Yes, thank you, señor. I bought some food as I came through the town, and ate it as I was waiting at the port."