"Our Captain has wit, as well as vigilance. But I am forgetting hospitality, soldier protector of the Mission. Come within. Let others woo, if they will, the goddess of dreams, but for you and me the pleasures of fellowship will hasten lagging hours." "I thank you, Señor Mendoza, but I fear----" "Fear never a moment, friend Morando. Sentinels watch over us in valley and on hill, men trusty, tried, and true. Eyes have they as keen as eagles; the ears and the swiftness of the fox are theirs. Therefore no vigil need thou keep for us." Morando still hesitated. "Come now. Right glad am I that you are here. Within, a glass of wine, a chat, perhaps a harmless game at cards, await us. Soon roll the hours away. Then you gallop across the pastures, alas! dry and bare now, to the pueblo of San José. I seek my couch soothed by your young companionship. Now, what wilt thou?" An inarticulate sound behind the embrasure. Don Alfredo could have sworn it concealed a silvery laugh from the fair Doña Carmelita. "The night birds are calling, Don Alfredo. Did you not just hear them?" looking slyly at the captain. "They are sleepy and we arouse them." Holding his arm and talking the while about the drought and other difficulties the Administrator led Don Alfredo within. "Brave Captain, place that death-dealing weapon on the chair," pointing a second time to the guitar. "Some new invention, of course, though I seem to see something familiar about it. Seat yourself on that settee. It came to me from Madrid." "Thank you, señor." With a smile as gracious as the moonlight the señor said: "At another time I would ask my daughter, the Doña Carmelita, to join us for a little visit, but the child is young and the night already late. She would doubtless wish to sleep." They were in the Administrator's private sitting room, the duplicate of a room in his father's castle in Spain. Priceless Persian rugs were on the floor, with high-back chairs of solid mahogany everywhere about. A massive secretary, likewise of mahogany, stood at one side. Tapestries designed in Seville hung on one of the walls; weapons of the hunt and of war, another; while oil paintings of battles, in many of which the family Mendoza had been distinguished, completed the adornment. "Caramba! I ride miles to serenade the daughter; and here I am in the hacienda house, the guest of the father, while the señorita is somewhere in the courtyard, laughing, I'm sure--yes, laughing," thought the young soldier. "Some wine, my Captain? Genuine Malaga it is, guaranteed by government stamp, not the juice of the old Mission grape, excellent as that is. Now, the cigarros. Let us speak, Señor Captain, of the General Guerrero. I understand he was once commander of that division in Spain from which you have so lately come. Am I correct?" "You are, señor. The General was my commander so recently that one year will more than bridge the time."