"Of anything in Don Luis's larder," replied the _peon_ grandly.

"Yet surely there must be some rule about the meal."

"The only rule, excellency, is the pleasure of the host."

"What does Don Luis, then, usually order?"

"Chocolate," replied the servant.

"Nothing else?"

"And a roll or two, excellency."

"What does he eat after that?" Harry demanded, rather anxiously.

"Nothing, _caballero_, until the next meal."

"Chocolate and a roll or two," muttered Harry. "I am afraid that wouldn't hold me through a day's work. Not even a forenoon's toil. I never did like to diet on a plan of tightening my belt."

"Anything for which the _caballero_ will ask shall be brought,"

replied Nicolas, with another bow.

"How about a steak, Tom?" Harry asked, turning to his chum.

"Pardon, excellency, but we have no such thing here," Nicolas interposed, meekly.

"Eggs?" Harry guessed.

"Excellency, we shall hope to have some eggs by to-morrow,"

"Harry, you idiot, why didn't you ask for mince pie and doughnuts, too?" laughed Reade.

"Nicolas, my boy, the trouble with me," Harry explained, "is that chocolate and rolls will never hold my soul and body together for more than an hour at a time. Chocolate and rolls by all means, but help us out a bit. What can we call for that is more hearty."

"There are _tortillas_ to be had sometimes," the servant answered.

"Also, sometimes, _frijoles_."

"They both sound good," Harry a.s.sented vaguely. "Bring us some."

"_Caballeros_, you shall be served with the speed at which the eagle flies!" exclaimed the servant. With a separate bow to each he withdrew, softly closing the door after him.

"Now Harry, let's hustle into some clothes," urged Tom. "Since we are to eat here mine clothes will be the thing. Hustle into them!"

Bred in the ways of the camps, ten minutes later Tom and Harry were washed, dressed and otherwise tidy in every respect.

"I've a mind to go outdoors and get some glimpses of the scenery for a few minutes," Harry hinted.

"Don't think of it. You don't want to come back to a cold breakfast."

So both seated themselves, regretting the absence of morning newspapers.

Then the time began to drag. Finally the delay became wearisome.

"I wonder how many people Nicolas is serving this morning?" murmured Hazelton, at last.

"Everyone in the house would be my guess," laughed Tom. Still time dragged by.

"What on earth will Don Luis think of us?" Harry grunted.

"There is only one thing for it, if this delay lasts any longer,"

Tom answered. "If this delay lasts much longer we shall have to put off breakfast until to-morrow and get to work."

"Put off breakfast until to-morrow?" Hazelton gasped. "That's where I draw the line. Before I'll stir a step from here I must have at least food enough to grubstake a canary bird."

Some minutes later, Nicolas rapped at the door. He then entered, bearing a tray enveloped in snowy linen. This tray he put down, then spread a tablecloth that he had brought over one arm.

"Will you be seated, _caballeros_?" he asked, respectfully, as he took his stand by the tray. Then he whisked away the linen cover. Gravely he set upon the table a pot of chocolate, two dainty cups and saucers and a plate containing four rolls.

"Where's the b.u.t.ter, Nicolas?" asked Harry.

"b.u.t.ter, _caballero_? I did not understand that you wished it.

I will get it. I will run all the way to the kitchen and back."

"Never mind the b.u.t.ter this morning, Nicolas," spoke up Tom, at the same time kicking Harry gently under the table.

"Can I serve you further, now, _caballeros_" inquired Nicolas, with great respect, "or shall I bring you the remainder of your breakfast?"

"Bring us the rest of the breakfast, by all means," begged Harry, and the servant left them.

"Why did you tell him not to mind the b.u.t.ter?" grunted Hazelton.

"Because," Tom answered, "it struck me that, in Mexico, it may not be customary to serve b.u.t.ter in the morning."

Harry took a bite of one of the rolls, finding it to be soft, flaky and delicious. Then he removed another linen covering from the pot and started to pour the chocolate. That beverage did not come as freely as he had expected.

"What ails the stuff?" grunted Hazelton. "This isn't the first of April."

Then Harry removed the lid from the pot, glancing inside, next he picked up a spoon and stirred the contents of the pot.

"I wish Nicolas were here," said Hazelton.

"Why?" Tom wanted to know.

"I'm bothered about what's etiquette in Mexico. I don't know whether it's right to eat this stuff with a knife, or whether we're expected to spread the stuff on the rolls."

"It is pretty thick stuff," Tom agreed, after taking a look.

"But let me have the pot and the spoon. I think I can manage it."

After some work Tom succeeded in reducing the chocolate to a consistency that admitted of pouring, though very slowly.