Next morning early Pedro’s mule, held by Pedrillo, stood at his door, surrounded by a whispering, awe-stricken group of native urchins lingering to see the dread beast mounted by the Viracocha of the fabulous leg. As Pedro appeared the brute twitched an ear toward him, opened his mouth, and drew breath in a faint, rasping, wheezy note of salutation. Pedro was gloomy, but he paused to rub the gray nose. "Ah, my good friend," he said, with feeling, "there is melancholy in thine accent—belike, the echo of a melancholy in thy soul, like that in mine. ’T is but a sorry life: we’re agreed in that, and comrades in misery. Thou, a mule, a cook’s mule; I, a cook, a one-legged cook; and a panting, surcharged, vociferous Bolio at our heels, following with the pertinacy of doom! But if thou, too, hast doleful thoughts, forbear to voice them, lest I be brought to tears. Now, prithee, lend me thy back. _Adiós_, Pedrillo. Remember the _frijoles_. Burn them again, scamp, and I’ll—Whoa, mule! Thou misbegotten whimsy, I thought I read sadness in thine eye,—and ’t was the devil. Be done, or I’ll chew thine ear! Farewell, Pedrillo." Pedro was off. Half-an-hour’s ride took him through the suburbs, and he turned into the military road toward the grim fortress overlooking the town. A short, steep climb, and he was at the gate, bantered by the guard about the coming of Señora Bolio. Within was a citadel, surrounded by buildings for the garrison, or the townspeople when driven by war, and quarters for the Inca’s officers. As Pedro was passing he was hailed by the familiar pipe of Rogelio. He drew rein, not in the best of grace, awaiting the _veedor’s_ approach. "Ah, Pedro, my good friend," said Rogelio, "I am pleased to see thee. I had thee in mind, ’t is but a moment since. I——" "Ware the heels of the mule!" bellowed Pedro, with a violence that startled the _veedor_ into sudden agility in a backward spring. "My soul and body!" exclaimed Rogelio, rolling his eyes from the beast to its rider. "No need to roar, my friend. Thine animal looketh gentle enough." "He hideth an abundance of wickedness under a smooth exterior—like some of his brethren who go on two legs," remarked Pedro. "Ah?" Rogelio eyed the cook suspiciously. "Ah!" returned Pedro. "But, hadst aught to say, Señor _Veedor_?" "Why, I have, good Pedro," said Rogelio, recovering. "In a few days—perhaps a fortnight, perhaps very soon—I expect—that is to say, I—he, he, Pedro!—’tis a delicate subject—but—well, I may need a woman servant. Just a common servant, Pedro." "Ah!" said the cook. "Just a common servant! So! ’T is a common need, _Veedor_, shared by common and uncommon. I thank thee for thy confidence, Señor. I’ll betray it to no man." And apparently considering the interview closed, Pedro gathered his reins to go. "Wait!" shouted the _veedor_. "Blockhead, that is not all!" "Not all, Señor! Thou hast need of two?"