"Aha! Thou back, Fray Mauricio!" he muttered. "Hast renewed thy courage and venom, my small, liver-colored brother? I’d exchange thee for the devil himself, my friend, and so would José, had he his choice. Would thou wert back in Spain—or farther! I’ll warn the armorer, be sure of it. And now, the cavaliers—two, four, six, eight. Not bad! But, father of famine, what a hungry lot! _Hola_!" he shouted. "What fare on the way, _compadres_? Saddle-leather and surcingles, I’ll be bound. Cheer up! There’s better beyond. Come, smile thou, my empty _caballero_ in the rear! In a week thy waistband will renew acquaintance with thy pansiere. There’s that in Peru to fill it, and some to be left over for the infantry. Oho! Here they are—our honest lads of the foot! Twenty in all—and that is to say, twenty larcenies the more for each day of the calendar. _Bien_! Were there no thieves we’d have no love for honest men. What cheer, pikemen? Did ye ever see a cold boiled ham? Ah, see them drool! They’re blest with powers of memory, ’t is sure. What, ho! A civilian! A leech, _amigo_? No? A barber!—next of kin. _Gracias á Dios_, a barber! Fall out, my friend; thy journey endeth here." A weary individual in civil garb, his legs bare to the knees but for the fringe of rags that fell below them, turned out of the column. "_Nombre de Dios_! Is this an inn?" he asked in astonishment, peering through the open door and sniffing the fragrance. "An inn, and no less. An inn, and no more," replied Pedro. "Enter. Thou ’rt as welcome to it as the smell of it seemeth to be to thee." The stranger shook his head. "I have no money, Señor." "The fiend!" ejaculated Pedro. "But thou hast an appetite, or thy looks belie thee. Enter, and call for what there is. Thy credit is good. Are there any others—civilians?" "My gratitude, Señor," said the other, with feeling. "Yes, there are four in the rear of the baggage, and three women with the rear guard." "Three women!" repeated Pedro. "Native women, thou wouldst say?" "Of our own race, Señor." "What!" exclaimed Pedro, in amazement. "Three Spanish women? _Santo Sacramento_! sayst thou so? What do they in this land of paynimry? Oh, these modern women!" "Two are wives of cavaliers. The third is alone. And, Señor"—he spoke earnestly—"beware of this third." "Ho!" responded Pedro, with a shrug. "I have all my feathers, _amigo_." "Nay; but, Señor—" he was interrupted by the jubilant bray of a pack-mule which had divined the end of the march. When he would have continued Pedro was badgering a muleteer. The stranger entered the _cantina_—and Fate rode down upon the unsuspecting Pedro. The rear guard approached. Sure enough, there were three señoras, two heavily veiled, riding mules. Pedro was bowing profoundly. "Welcome, Señoras! Welcome to the land of gold. ’T is a Heaven’s blessing to look once more upon your kind."