"Si, señor," the other replied, unconsciously lapsing into his native tongue.
"Muy bueno—and bear it in mind. Now I advise you to get to work on the documents you've allowed to accumulate; it's half-past two and you've had enough of a siesta for one noon." With which Bryant took his departure.
Outside he led his horse across the street to the frame store. Beside the latter stood Menocal's house, with its smooth green lawn and its beds of poppies, its trees, its fence massed with sweet peas, and its vine-covered veranda, where the engineer had a glimpse of a corpulent figure in a hammock. The only sound from the place was the musical gurgle of water in a little irrigation ditch bordering the lawn.
Inside the long store Bryant aroused the only man in sight, a Mexican who slept on the counter with his head pillowed on a pile of overalls.
"Go tell Menocal there's a man here to see him on business," Lee said.
The awakened sleeper slid off his perch, rubbed his eyes, yawned, stretched himself, and then shook his head with great gravity.
"Mr. Menocal takes his siesta till three o'clock; you can see him at that time," he said, in English.
"I'll see him now."
"Impossible! He is very angry when awakened for a small matter."
Bryant went a step nearer to the speaker.