“You command here?” the mule’s owner asked the ensign.
“At present. My lieutenant is visiting at a rancho near by.”
“And you are called——?”
“Ensign Sanchez, señor. May I ask your name in turn?”
“It really does not matter. Allow me, señor, to present you a pass signed by His Excellency the Governor. You will find, I think, that he tells all officers to use me with respect and to aid me on my way. Look not for my name, there, señor, for you will not find it.”
“It is almost beyond belief,” the ensign said, “that two strangers should arrive in a single day, each with a pass from his excellency that is innocent of a name.”
“How is this? Another stranger with a pass?”
“This gentleman you see before you, señor. It was he, I believe, who slew those men you stumbled over in the highway.”
“Then he is an excellent shot and has a good sword-arm!” He turned and looked the caballero straight in the eyes, and the ensign watched to see if a sign passed between them, but could not observe any. “After all,” he resumed, “suppose we both do have passes—what of it? His excellency trusts more than one man in this broad world, I assume. But, since there are two of us without names, we are going to have difficulty carrying on polite conversation. It is better we called ourselves something before we get badly tangled. You may call me Juan, for instance.”
“And you may call me Claudio,” said the caballero, laughing.