"I am sorry, but we have no room; there are a number of strangers in the town. They are not so full at the Golden Fleece."
"I'd rather stay here if I have to wait until to-morrow," Walthew answered. "You take care of the mules well, and I may have a long ride. Then one puts up at a place one knows, with more—confidence."
The majordomo looked hard at him.
"We must try to make room, señor, since you have—confidence."
"Exactly," said Walthew, smiling. "Now I want the mule fed but not unsaddled. I may perhaps need it in an hour, and it would be an advantage if you could find me another."
"It might be possible," the majordomo replied in a thoughtful tone. "Still, there are spies about and they may watch this house. With permission, I will send the mule to Ramon Silva in the calle Pinastro. He is a carrier, and it is known that he buys pack-animals; he will have both mules ready, if you ask for them with confidence."
Walthew thanked the man and set off for the presidio. It was a long, square-fronted building with a sentry-box at the entrance, and an untidy soldier sat smoking outside. Another stood a little farther on in a slouching attitude, a rifle raking across his shoulder and his kepis tilted to one side. Discipline is seldom marked among Spanish-American soldiers, but Walthew was somewhat surprised to note that the fellow was bantering a group of loiterers. They were dressed like peons, and one carried a tray of sweetmeats and another a quantity of cigarettes, apparently for sale. As Walthew passed, the former hurriedly moved his tray, as if to prevent its being upset.
"Be careful, señor!" he exclaimed, giving Walthew a warning glance.
Walthew understood it. The men were not there by accident, and he saw that one was within leaping distance of the sentry. He knew that the Spanish knife is almost as dangerous as the rifle at close quarters; and can, moreover, be thrown a short distance with effect.
"I have a message for the secretario," he told the sentry with a careless air.