"Why not?"
"Because, if you do open, you will be rewarded in a way which you will not repent of."
"Yes, yes, all travellers are the same; they make plenty of promises so long as they are outside; but once in, they are not in a hurry to untie their purse-strings."
"That will not be the case with us."
"How do I know?" the huésped said, shrugging his shoulders. "My house is full; I have no room left."
"We will find some, dear Saccaplata."
"Halloh! Who are you, pray, who know me so well? Maybe you are one of those caballeros de la noche who have been ransacking the country for some time past."
"You are mistaken grossly, and I will prove it to you," the colonel answered, anxious to cut short this open-air conversation. "Take that first," he said, throwing two ounces through the wicket; "and now, to prevent any misunderstanding, know that I am Don Sebastian Guerrero."
The worthy landlord was only sensible to one argument—that which the colonel had so judiciously employed to overcome his resistance. He stooped, picked up the two ounces, which disappeared in a second, and again addressing the travellers, but this time with a tone which he strove to render more amiable,—
"Come," he said, "I must e'en do what you wish, I am too good-hearted. You have provisions, I hope?"