The adobe walls of the fort were a dozen feet or so in height, with eaves projecting outward, the better to prevent scaling by a possible enemy. Within these walls was a row of buildings in which were the officers of the alcalde, the subprefect, the jefe-politico and other civil officers of the pueblo. Here also were the quarters of Morando's men. The Captain himself had a reception room in one corner of an edifice facing the street. A motley gathering was in this room, also clustered around the door as the Señora Valentino drew rein. Her mounted escort had drawn up on either side of her in orderly lines, each peon so tightening his bridle that the horses walked in perfect step.
Captain Morando, the comandante, pushed his way through the crowd to the lady's side. "Thrice glad am I to see you, amiga mia. Will you not alight and rest awhile?"
"Thank you, Captain."
He released her foot from the stirrup and assisted her to the ground.
"My poor place shines like the morning in answer to your presence, señora."
She smiled on him and looked about over the waiting crowd. "Why so many sad faces here, Captain?"
"These friends mourn relatives who fell in the recent contest with Yoscolo. To-day the Department, through me, considers the demands for pensions."
"Then I interrupt."
"Indeed not, my friend. This reception room meets never a guest more welcome than Señora Valentino."
"But these sad ones? You must not neglect them for my sake."