A FEW DIPLOMATIC TOUCHES
"Buenos noches, señores."
Two men sitting by a fire rose to their feet.
"Buenos noches," responded one of them. The men moved a little toward the newcomer, one of them limping considerably, as if injured.
"I say," came from the lame man, "perhaps this is some one our guide has sent in search of us."
"We'll soon see," replied the other, in English. Then in Spanish: "We are lost here in the forest. Can you tell us where we can find food and shelter for the night?"
"Of a surety, señor, of a surety," the stranger replied. "I am major-domo of Señor Miramonte's hacienda. This is his property here. The señor and his lady are out, but wayfarer guests are none the less welcome. I saw your fire and thought some vagrant peons had built it. We greatly dread forest and pasture fires this time of year. Come, señors, come with me."
"He offers us the hospitality of a rancho house."
"I'll be deuced glad for shelter anywhere," the injured man replied, both speaking in English. "I'm at home on a ship, but riding a stiff-backed horse with wooden legs is too much for me. Ugh! I'm sore as if I'd been put in a sack and beaten with clubs. Besides, I'm actually seasick. Commodore, think of that! Sea-sick! All for riding a jointless, iron-jawed broncho."
The man addressed as "Commodore" laughed. "Maybe riding your horse over that twenty-foot precipice is a contributary cause to your soreness, Captain."