Between the two of us there was no possibility of mistaking which was the commander-in-chief—so that the stranger had addressed himself to the proper personage.
As his talk was Cherokee to the general—perhaps not so well understood—he was motioned to make his communication to me.
I had already gathered from his introductory remarks, that he had been travelling in a stage-coach, en route for the capital on a special errand to the general himself; and that a great misfortune had befallen him on the road. I had by this time noticed a slight délabrement in his dress—to say nothing of some scratches on his hands and face—that went towards confirming his hurried statement.
“A misfortune?” I asked, in my capacity of interpreter. “Of what nature, señor?”
“O cavallero; una cosa horrible; un robo! Por los bandoleros!”
“A horrible business—a robbery by brigands!” I said, translating literally to the general.
“How very singular!” remarked the commander-in-chief. “Quite a coincidence! I think, captain, I shall have to grant your request.”
“Of what have they robbed you, señor?” I inquired, in the continuation of my new rôle. “Not your watch—else they would scarce have left you those splendid appendages?”
I spoke of a massive chain and bunch of gold seals, with turquoise, topaz, and other sparkling stones, that hung conspicuously from his waistcoat.
“Por Dios, no! They did not take that!”