At this moment the peons brought in the dinner.
"To table, gentlemen," the captain said.
The meal was, as might be expected in this extreme frontier, excessively frugal. It was only composed of venison, maize tortillas, red beans, and pimiento, the whole washed down with pulque, mezcal, and Catalonian refino, the strongest spirit in the known world. The guests had a true hunter's appetite; that is to say, they were nearly dead of hunger, for the count and Valentine had eaten nothing for thirty hours. Hence they vigorously attacked the provisions placed before them.
The peons had retired immediately after bringing in the dinner, so as to leave the party full liberty for conversation. Hence, so soon as the rough edge was taken off their appetite, the discussion was begun again exactly where it left off, which always occurs with men whose minds are preoccupied by any difficult project.
"So," the captain asked, "war is decidedly declared between you and the Mexican Government?"
"Without remedy."
"Although the cause you sustain is just, as you are fighting for the maintenance of a right, still you will inscribe something on the banner you display?"
"Of course. I inscribe the only thing which can guarantee me the protection of the people through whom I pass, and make the oppressed and the malcontents flock to me."
"Hum! what is it?"
"Only four words."