I explained to him how it was that he had been sent for, placing due emphasis on the stupidity of the _alguazil_. He heard me without interruption, keeping, however, one eye on the _alguazil_, and handling his cane nervously. By the time I had finished, the cane fairly quivered; and the delinquent himself, who had scarcely flinched under the _Teniente's_ knife, was now uneasily stealing away towards the door. Our _alcalde_ saw the movement, and, with a hurried bow, and _"Con permiso, Caballeros"_ (With your permission, gentlemen,) started after the fugitive, who was saluted with _"Que bestia!"_ (What a beast!) and a staggering blow over his shoulders. He hurried his pace, but the _alcalde's_ cane followed close, and with vigorous application, half-way across the _plaza_. And when the _alcalde_ returned, out of breath, but full of apologies, he received a welcome such as could be inspired only by a profound faith in his ability and willingness to secure for us not merely _sacate_ and maize, but everything else that we might desire. We told him that he was a model officer and a man after our own hearts, all of which he listened to with dignified modesty, wiping the perspiration from his face, meanwhile, with--well, with the tail of his shirt! The _alcalde_ was very hard on his constituency, and, from all that we could gather, he seemed to regard them collectively as _"bestias_," and _"hombres sin vergüenza"_ (men without shame). We concurred with him, and regretted that he had not a wider and more elevated official sphere, and gave him, withal, a _trago_ of brandy, which he seemed greatly to relish, and then again approached the subject of _sacate_ for our mules. To our astonishment, the _alcalde_ suddenly grew grave, and interrupted me with-- _"Pero, no hay, Señor_." (But there is none, Sir.) "Well, maize will answer." _"Tampoco_." "What! no maize? What do you make your _tortillas_ of?" "We have no _tortillas_." "How, then, do you live?" "We don't live." A general shout of laughter greeted this last reply, in which, after a moment of puzzled hesitation, the _alcalde_ himself joined. "So, you don't live?" "Absolutely, no!" "But you eat?" "Very little. We are very poor." "Well, what do you eat?" "Cheese, _frijoles_, and an egg now and then." "But, no _tortillas_?" "No. We planted the last kernel of maize two days ago." And so it was. The little stock of dried grass and maize-stalks stored up from the present rainy season had long ago been consumed, and the maize itself, which is here the real staff of life, had run short,--and that, too, in a country where three crops a year might easily be produced by a very moderate expenditure of labor in the way of tillage and irrigation.