"¡Caray! What a pleasant surprise, my friends," the capataz said, "we see you most remarkably seldom. Come to my house, and while we drain a cup, you will tell me what brings you here, and it must be a serious matter, if I know you."
"Very serious indeed," Pedrito answered.
"Patito," said Blas, "you stay here; I am going to the estancia."
The capataz mounted his horse, and drew up alongside Pedrito.
"May I ask, caballero, without indiscretion, who that girl dressed in the Indian fashion is? She is white, is she not?"
"She is our sister, capataz."
"Your sister, Don Pedro! Are you joking?"
"Heaven forbid?"
"I was not aware you had a sister, so forgive me, for I am not a sorcerer."
The horsemen had arrived at their destination. The capataz dismounted, the bomberos followed his example, and followed him into a spacious ground floor room, where an elderly, healthy-looking woman was busy peeling Indian corn. It was Don Blas's mother, and Don Valentine's nurse. She greeted the newcomers with a good-humoured smile, offered them seats, and went to fetch a jug of chicha, which she placed before them.