“It really does not matter. Allow me, _señor_, to present you a pass signed by His Excellency the Governor. You will find, I think, that he tells all officers to use me with respect and to aid me on my way. Look not for my name, there, _señor_, for you will not find it.” “It is almost beyond belief,” the ensign said, “that two strangers should arrive in a single day, each with a pass from his excellency that is innocent of a name.” “How is this? Another stranger with a pass?” “This gentleman you see before you, _señor_. It was he, I believe, who slew those men you stumbled over in the highway.” “Then he is an excellent shot and has a good sword-arm!” He turned and looked the caballero straight in the eyes, and the ensign watched to see if a sign passed between them, but could not observe any. “After all,” he resumed, “suppose we both do have passes--what of it? His excellency trusts more than one man in this broad world, I assume. But, since there are two of us without names, we are going to have difficulty carrying on polite conversation. It is better we called ourselves something before we get badly tangled. You may call me Juan, for instance.” “And you may call me Claudio,” said the caballero, laughing. “Excellent! Juan and Claudio!” “Devil and Hades!” growled Sergeant Cassara. “’Tis enough to give a man a crooked brain! Neophyte! Get food and drink for the _señor_!” The mule’s owner sat at one end of the table, the caballero at the other end, with the ensign between them. The former ate; the two latter drank. The neophyte hung about, seemingly anxious to be of service to these two fine gentlemen, always watching their faces like a man who expects a message. Sergeant Cassara gathered his squad and stalked to the end of the barracks-room like an old hen clucking to her chickens, and got out cards and dice. “You came from San Francisco de Asis?” queried the ensign of the mule’s owner. “I left there recently.” “We are to have the pleasure of your company at Santa Barbara for some time?” “For an hour or two while I rest, _señor_. I am on my way to San Diego de Alcalá.” “This other guest of mine, at present known as Claudio, also goes to San Diego de Alcalá.” “So? I shall be glad to avail myself of his companionship on the highway, if he is willing, since he has so strong an arm and such courage. So much blood I never saw in one small spot----!” “But there are difficulties,” the ensign continued. “The _señor_ lost his mount during the attack of the bandits, and we have no good horse we can furnish him. It will take a day or two to send out to some rancho for a worthy steed, but he would proceed on his way almost immediately.” “It desolates me to hear it, for I would have liked this stranger’s company on the journey. But it is imperative that I follow the highway again within an hour or so.” “I find myself in the same predicament,” the caballero announced.