They went back.
"Hum!" the captain said to himself as they galloped on, "I must have a definitive explanation with him this very evening."
[CHAPTER VIII.]
A MEXICAN'S PROGRESS.
The Hispano-Americans usually drink nothing with their meals: it is only when the dulces, or cakes and sweetmeats, have been eaten, and each guest has swallowed the glass of water intended to facilitate digestion, that the liquors are put on the table, and the Catalonian refino begins to circulate; then the puros and pajillos are lighted, and the conversation, always rather stiff during the meal, becomes more intimate and friendly, owing to the absence of the inferior guests, who then retire, leaving the master of the house and his guests at perfect liberty.
The captain had judiciously chosen this moment to commence his attack. Not that he hoped to have a better chance with the young man at the termination of the meal—for the sobriety of the Southern Americans is proverbial—but because at that moment Don Sebastian, being freed from all cares, must more easily yield to the influence the captain fancied he could exercise over him.
The captain poured some refino into a large glass, which he filled with water, lit a puro, leant his elbows on the table, and looked fixedly at the young man.
"Muchacho," he said to him abruptly, "does the life you lead in the desert possess a great charm for you?"
Surprised at this question, which he was far from expecting, Don Sebastian hesitated ere he replied.