The two looked at each other with inquiry that shaded into understanding. Arenberg was the first to speak.
"Yes, we could go together," he said. "I trust you, and you trust me. But two are not strong enough. The chances are a thousand to one that neither of us would find what he iss seeking. The Mexicans wish revenge on the Texans, the Comanches raid to the outskirts of San Antonio. Pouf! Our lives would not be worth that! It must be a strong party of many men!"
"I believe you are right," said Phil, "but I wish to go. I wish to go very much."
"So do I," said Arenberg. "It iss the same with both of us, but suppose we wait. Where do you live?"
Phil no longer hesitated to confide in this chance acquaintance, and he replied that he was staying in a house near the Convent of the Ursuline Nuns, where a little room sheltered him and his few belongings.
"Suppose," said Arenberg, "that I join you there, and we save our expenses. In union there iss strength. If you do not like my suggestion say so. No harm iss done where none iss meant."
"On the contrary, I do like it," said Phil heartily. "It seems to me that we can help each other."
"Then come," said Arenberg. "We will go first to my place, where I will pay my own bill, take away what I have, and then we will join forces at yours, iss it not so?"
Arenberg was staying at one of the inns that abounded in New Orleans, and it took him only a half hour to pack and move, carrying his baggage in his hand. Phil's room was in a large, rambling old house, built of cypress wood, with verandas all about it. There an American widow kept boarders, and she had plenty of them, as New Orleans was overflowing with strangers. The room was small and bare, but it was large enough, as Phil's baggage, too, was limited. A cot was put in for Arenberg, and the two were at home.
The day was now drawing to a close, and the two ate supper with a strange company in the large dining-room of the boarding house. Phil, a close observer, noted that six languages were spoken around that more or less hospitable board. He understood only his own, and a little French and Spanish, but the difference in sound and intonation enabled him to note the others. One of the men who sat opposite him was a big fellow with glistening gold rings in his ears, evidently a West Indian of somewhat doubtful color, but he was quiet, and ate dextrously and skillfully with his knife. A sallow young Mexican with curling black mustaches complained incessantly about his food, and a thin New Englander spoke at times of the great opportunities for capital in the Southwest.