"Harry, you idiot, why didn't you ask for mince pie and doughnuts, too?" laughed Reade.
"Nicolas, my boy, the trouble with me," Harry explained, "is that chocolate and rolls will never hold my soul and body together for more than an hour at a time. Chocolate and rolls by all means, but help us out a bit. What can we call for that is more hearty."
"There are tortillas to be had sometimes," the servant answered.
"Also, sometimes, frijoles."
"They both sound good," Harry assented vaguely. "Bring us some."
"Caballeros, you shall be served with the speed at which the eagle flies!" exclaimed the servant. With a separate bow to each he withdrew, softly closing the door after him.
"Now Harry, let's hustle into some clothes," urged Tom. "Since we are to eat here mine clothes will be the thing. Hustle into them!"
Bred in the ways of the camps, ten minutes later Tom and Harry were washed, dressed and otherwise tidy in every respect.
"I've a mind to go outdoors and get some glimpses of the scenery for a few minutes," Harry hinted.
"Don't think of it. You don't want to come back to a cold breakfast."
So both seated themselves, regretting the absence of morning newspapers.