“Excellent! Juan and Claudio!”
“Devil and Hades!” growled Sergeant Cassara. “’Tis enough to give a man a crooked brain! Neophyte! Get food and drink for the señor!”
The mule’s owner sat at one end of the table, the caballero at the other end, with the ensign between them. The former ate; the two latter drank. The neophyte hung about, seemingly anxious to be of service to these two fine gentlemen, always watching their faces like a man who expects a message. Sergeant Cassara gathered his squad and stalked to the end of the barracks-room like an old hen clucking to her chickens, and got out cards and dice.
“You came from San Francisco de Asis?” queried the ensign of the mule’s owner.
“I left there recently.”
“We are to have the pleasure of your company at Santa Barbara for some time?”
“For an hour or two while I rest, señor. I am on my way to San Diego de Alcalá.”
“This other guest of mine, at present known as Claudio, also goes to San Diego de Alcalá.”
“So? I shall be glad to avail myself of his companionship on the highway, if he is willing, since he has so strong an arm and such courage. So much blood I never saw in one small spot——!”
“But there are difficulties,” the ensign continued. “The señor lost his mount during the attack of the bandits, and we have no good horse we can furnish him. It will take a day or two to send out to some rancho for a worthy steed, but he would proceed on his way almost immediately.”