After breakfast, the same scene was repeated as on the previous evening. Having obtained their quatro reales, and a medio apiece for lodging, we saw them huddling together round the forge, and counting their gains with an immense deal of jabbering and gesticulation. All of our companions were aroused at the same unseasonable hour, and, like ourselves, devoured with curiosity to learn the cause of so strange a phenomenon, but our ignorance of Spanish defeated all our efforts, and the subject yet remains in all its original obscurity.
[CHAPTER XXV.]
We stopped the fourth night at a town called San Pablo, containing many substantial buildings and several thousand inhabitants. We were obliged, however, to throw ourselves, as before, upon the hospitality of private families. Our search for some time proved unsuccessful,—the citizens were wealthier and more aristocratic, and were not always disposed to receive such a set of ragamuffins into their houses. But, at length, one of the principal storekeepers consented to provide us with supper and lodging, and then the following conversation took place:
"Have you any eggs—huevos?"
"Si, Señor! huevos."—"Gallina?" "Si, Señor! gallina."—"Pan?" "Si, pan."—"Milk?" (here our Spanish was at fault.) "Si, mañaña."—"Frijoles?" "Si, Señor! frijoles." "Bueno! quantos reales?" "Quantos reales?"—and at this important question he hesitated, while he consulted with his wife by signs—"Cinquo reales."—"Cinquo reales por uno?" "Si, Señor! bueno?" "Si! bueno! quantos horas?"
This question completely staggered him, as well it might; but we at length succeeded in making him comprehend that we wished to know at what hour we could have supper; and, this being satisfactorily arranged, he again ran over our bill of fare:—"Huevos, gallina, pan, frijoles, cinquo reales, esta bueno?"
"Si, Señor," we replied, "esta bueno," and set out on a stroll through the town in search of a Panama hat Ohio was anxious to obtain. We failed to find any sufficiently large, but going into what seemed a shop, we found a fat padre swinging in his hammock, with one foot lazily patting the floor, and an expression of entire complacency in his little twinkling eyes and broad, good-humoured countenance. His library was arranged on one or two small shelves, and consisted mostly of ancient Latin folios written, probably, some hundreds of years ago. The padre received us with the utmost courtesy; and, in spite of his sluggish temper, really looked as if he would have liked to converse with us if he could. But signs and single words, though they sometimes answered a very good purpose in enabling us to make a bargain for supper, or something equally simple, were of little service in carrying on an abstract conversation; we therefore soon made our adios, the padre returned to his hammock to meditate over his dinner, and we continued our walk.