"Arrah, now! did yez see the rid sash?" inquired an Irishman.

"Thim's captin's," suggested the Yankee. "He's a captin or a kurnel; I'll bet high on that."

"What did he say, Nath, as he was running off?"

"I don't know 'zactly--somethin' that sounded mighty like 'spearin' on us."

"He's a lanzeer then, by jingo!"

"He had better try on his spearin'," said another; "there's shootin'

before spearin'--mighty good ground, too, behind this hyur painted wall."

"The old fellow was mighty frindly at first; what got into him, anyhow?"

"Raoul says he offered to give the captain his house and all the furnishin's."

"Och, mother o' Moses! and thim illigant girls, too!"

"Ov coorse."

"By my sowl! an' if I was the captain, I'd take him at his word, and lave off fightin' intirely."

"It _is_ delf," said a soldier, referring to the material of which the parapet was constructed.

"No, it ain't."

"It's chaney, then."

"No, nor chaney either."

"Well, what is it?"

"It's only a stone wall painted, you greenhorn!"

"Stone-thunder! it's solid delf, I say."

"Try it with your bayonet, Jim."

_Crick_--_crick_--_crick_--_crinell_! reached my ears. Turning round, I saw that one of the men had commenced breaking off the j.a.panned work of the parapet with his bayonet.

"Stop that!" I shouted to the man.

The remark of Chane that followed, although uttered _sotto voce_, I could distinctly hear. It was sufficiently amusing.

"The captain don't want yez to destroy what'll be his own some day, when he marries one of thim young Dons. Here comes the owld one, and, by the powers! he's got a big paper; he's goin' to make over the property!"

Laughing, I looked round, and saw that the Don was returning, sure enough. He hurried up, holding out a large sheet of parchment.

"Well, Senor, what's this?" I inquired.

"_No soy Mexicano--soy Espanol_!" (I am no Mexican--I am a Spaniard), said he, with the expression of a true hidalgo.

Casting my eye carelessly over the doc.u.ment, I perceived that it was a _safeguard_ from the Spanish consul at Vera Cruz, certifying that the bearer, Don Cosme Rosales, was a native of Spain.

"Senor Rosales," said I, returning the paper, "this was not necessary.

The interesting circ.u.mstances under which we have met should have secured you good treatment, even were you a Mexican and we the barbarians we have been represented. We have come to make war, not with peaceful citizens, but with a rabble soldiery."

"_Es verdad_ (Indeed). You are wet, Senor? you are hungry?"

I could not deny that I was both the one and the other.

"You need refreshment, gentlemen; will you come to my house?"

"Permit me, Senor, to introduce you to Major Blossom--Lieutenant Clayley--Lieutenant Oakes: Don Cosme Rosales, gentlemen."

My friends and the Don bowed to each other. The major had now recovered his complacency.

"_Vamonos, caballeros_!" (Come on, gentlemen), said the Don, starting towards the house.

"But your soldiers, Capitan?" added he, stopping suddenly.

"They will remain here," I rejoined.

"Permit me to send them some dinner."

"Oh! certainly," replied I; "use your own pleasure, Don Cosme, but do not put your household to any inconvenience."

In a few minutes we found our way to the house, which was neither more nor less than the cage-looking structure already described.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A MEXICAN DINNER.

"_Pasan adentro, Senores_," said Don Cosme, drawing aside the curtain of the rancho, and beckoning us to enter.

"Ha!" exclaimed the major, struck with the _coup-d'oeil_ of the interior.

"Be seated, gentlemen. _Ya vuelvo_." (I will return in an instant.)

So saying, Don Cosme disappeared into a little porch in the back, partially screened from observation by a close network of woven cane.

"Very pretty, by Jove!" said Clayley, in a low voice.

"Pretty indeed!" echoed the major, with one of his customary a.s.severations.

"Stylish, one ought rather to say, to do it justice."