The spot where they had now made stop--final for the night--was still far below the summit of the mountain. It was a sort of platform or bench, formed by the crest of a projecting spur, the cliff rising sheer at its back. Its level surface was only a few acres in extent, supporting a thick growth of tall evergreen pines, the long-leaved species indigenous to Mexico. Centrally there was a place clear of timber, which ran up to the cliff's base, or rather to a building contiguous to it. In front of this they halted, Rivas saying-- "Behold my humble abode, _caballeros_! Let me bid you welcome to it." There was light enough to let them see a massive pile of mason work outlined against the cliff's _facade_, while too dim for them to distinguish its features. They could make out, however, what appeared to be a pair of windows with pointed arches, and between them a large doorway, seeming more like the mouth of a cavern. Out of this came a faint scintillation of light, and as they drew up to it, a candle could be seen burning inside a sort of covered porch, resembling the lych-gate of a country church. There were some stone benches outside, from one of which a man started up and advanced toward them, as he did so putting the formal question-- "_Quien es_?" "_Yo, Gregorio_!" was the answer given by Rivas. "_El Capitan_!" exclaimed the questioner, in a tone also telling of pleased surprise. "And free again! I'm so glad, Don Ruperto! Praise to the Lord for delivering you!" "Thanks, good Gregorio! And while you're about it, you may as well give part of your praise to a lady, who had something to do with it--indeed, two of them." "Ah! Senor Capitan, I think I know one of them anyhow, and in all Mexico I can say--ay, swear it--" "True, true!" interrupted the Captain. "But stay your asseveration. There's no time to talk about the Senoritas now. My friends and I are in want of something to eat. We're as hungry as _coyotes_. What have you got in the larder?" "Not much, I fear, your worship. And the cook's gone to bed, with everybody else. But they'll only be too delighted to get up when they hear it's your worship come back. Shall I go and rouse them, Senor?" "No, no. Let them sleep it out. Any cold thing will do for us. We're as much fatigued as famished, and wish to be in bed ourselves as soon as possible. So look out whatever eatables there are, and don't forget the drinkables. I trust the cellar isn't as low as the larder?" "No, Senor. Of that I can speak with more confidence. Not a cork has been drawn since you left us--I mean of the best wines. Only the common Canario was drunk in your absence." "In that case, mayor-domo, we may sup satisfactorily, so far as the liquids are concerned, should the solids prove deficient. Bring a bottle of Burgundy, another of the Brown Madeira, and, let me see--yes, one of old Pedro Ximenes. I suppose the brethren have used up all my best cigars?"