"Well, by Gosh! Left with the heathen and his flesh pots! I say, Cap'——"
The Captain was gone. Whereupon Brown followed whither the peon led him, the while speaking naïve criticisms of this worthy and of all things Californian. The Indian understood nothing, but grinned obligingly whenever he saw the stranger had completed some period or other of his discourse.
The disappearance of his "Cap'" did not disturb Brown. He had become too well accustomed to the flittings of the chief. Their place of residence was in a cañon of the high mountains, a score of miles east of the pueblo San José. Here a rude cabin had been found formerly occupied by vaquero peons. From this point the leader and his factotum sallied forth on many an excursion. If Brown wondered at the meaning of it all, he rarely questioned, and never searchingly. It sufficed that finally they would hunt "big game."
The Captain, hastening along a narrow street, came to a plaza smaller than the one he had left, but otherwise similar to it, around which were grouped many of the homes of officialdom. This plaza was the center of the fashionable as well as of the political life of the province.
He stopped before one of the most imposing residences. Within the porte-cochere a man sat on a bench. He was the outside guardian of the dwelling, a position of importance at the time.
"I wish to speak with one of the house," the Captain announced.
The other arose and bowed ceremoniously.
"Whom have I the honor of addressing?"
"Will you carry the Señora Doña Valentino word that a man is here to see her on the king's business?"
The stranger's unpretentious attire and travel-stained appearance had not deterred the guard from showing him the suave courtesy a guest should receive, but the words, "on the king's business" seemed to sting the Spanish-American.