“’Tis true, Captain; there are a hundred or more; they are mine—take them all!”
“But it is our intention to pay for them, Don Cosmé. The major here has the power to contract with you.”
“As you please, gentlemen; but you will then return this way, and proceed to your camp?”
“As soon as possible,” I replied. “How far distant is this plain?”
“Not more than a league. I would go with you, but—” Here Don Cosmé hesitated, and, approaching, said in a low tone: “The truth is, Señor Capitan, I should be glad if you could take them without my consent. I have mixed but little in the politics of this country; but Santa Anna is my enemy—he will ask no better motive for despoiling me.”
“I understand you,” said I. “Then, Don Cosmé, we will take your mules by force, and carry yourself a prisoner to the American camp—a Yankee return for your hospitality.”
“It is good,” replied the Spaniard, with a smile.
“Señor Capitan,” continued he, “you are without a sword. Will you favour me by accepting this?”
Don Cosmé held out to me a rapier of Toledo steel, with a golden scabbard richly chased, and bearing on its hilt the eagle and nopal of Mexico.
“It is a family relic, and once belonged to the brave Guadalupe Victoria.”