These Campesinos were three in number; they were men in the full vigour of life, with harshly marked features, firm glances, and brusque and brutal manners. They wore the Mexican border costume, and were well armed.
They sat down on a bench placed before a clumsily planed table, and one of them striking it sharply with his fist, turned to the girl and said roughly—
"Drink here."
She started, and raised her head quickly.
"What do you wish for, Caballeros?" she said.
"Mezcal."
She rose and hastened to serve them; the man who had spoken caught her by the dress at the moment she passed.
"An instant, Carmela," he said.
"Let go my dress, Ruperto," she replied, with a slight pout of ill-humour, "you will tear it for me."
"Nonsense!" he replied, with a coarse laugh, "you must fancy me very awkward."