The reply of his subordinate, however, reassures him.
“No, colonel, he’s not a Comanche; bears no resemblance to one, only in the colour of his skin. He appears to be a Pueblo; and from his tattered costume, I take him to be some poor labourer.”
“But what does he want with me?”
“That, colonel, I cannot say; only that he has expressed a very urgent desire to speak with you. I fancy he has something to communicate, which might be important for you to hear; else I should not have taken the liberty to bring him here.”
“You have him at hand?”
“I have. He is outside in the patio. Shall I usher him in?”
“By all means; there can be no harm in hearing what the fellow has to say. It may be about some threatened invasion of the savages; and as protectors of the people, you, ayudante, know it’s our duty to do whatever we can for warding off such a catastrophe.”
The colonel laughs at his sorry jest; the adjutant expressing his appreciation of it in a shrug of the shoulders, accompanied by a grim smile.
“Bring the brute in!” is the command that followed, succeeded by the injunction.
“Stay outside in the court till I send for or call you. The fellow may have something to say intended for only one pair of ears. Take a glass of the mezcal, light cigarrito, and amuse yourself as you best may.”