“I must depart at the earliest possible moment,” the caballero replied.
“And I also,” said the owner of the mule.
“You are determined to play?” queried the ensign. “Then one, I suppose, will depart as soon as the game is over, and the other remain here until I can procure a good steed?”
“That is the situation,” his guests agreed.
“Riding the mule, you scarcely can reach another mission by fall of night.”
“If I am successful in leaving on the mule, I’ll not stop until I reach the pueblo at Reina de Los Angeles,” the caballero said. “I’ll get food and drink where and how I can. My business is urgent.”
“There may be more bandits.”
“There are more bullets in my pistols and more thrusts in my sword-arm, señor. I dislike to appear a boaster, but I am inclined to believe I can care for myself.”
He met the eyes of the mule’s owner, as if there was some special significance in the words, and for the moment the chuckling of the latter stopped.
“And you, señor?” asked the ensign, turning toward the other end of the table.