"Caray, it is fourteen hours since I have eaten; but unluckily I have no provisions."
"Well, I have, and we will share them."
"Very good. I see that you are a first-rate fellow."
The majordomo rose, fetched the alforjas which were fastened to his saddle, and then seated himself again by the fire.
"There!" he said, displaying his provisions with some degree of complacency.
"¡Caramba!" the other remarked, with a laugh; "Food was never more welcome."
The provisions which caused such delight to the two men would have made our European good wives smile with pity. They consisted of some slices of tasajo, cicuia, a lump of goat's cheese, and a few maize tortillas; but the majordomo produced a leather bottle, full of excellent mezcal, which had the privilege of restoring to the two adventurers all their merry carelessness.
The tasajo was laid on the coals, where it was soon done to a turn, and the two friends heartily attacked the supper. The frugal meal ended, they washed it down with a few sips of mezcal, fraternally passing the bottle to each other; then they lit their cigarettes, the obligado supplement of every Mexican repast, and began to smoke, while attentively surveying the heavy sky, which was already striped with dark bands under the influence of the early morning hours.
"Now, let us hold a council, if you are agreeable," the stranger said, as he inhaled an enormous mouthful of smoke, which he sent forth through his mouth and nostrils.
"As you are my senior on this territory," the majordomo remarked, with a laugh, "and are better acquainted with its resources than I am, you have the right to speak first."