"Nina, the _guisado_ is cooked," said she, after lifting a portion of the stew on a wooden spoon, and examining it; "let us to dinner!" "Very well, mother," replied Rosita, rising from her loom; "I shall make the tortillas at once." Tortillas are only eaten warm--that is, are fit only for eating when warm--or fresh from the "_comal_." They are, therefore, to be baked immediately before the meal commences, or during its continuance. Rosita set the olla on one side, and placed the comal over the coals. Another olla, which contained maize--already boiled soft--was brought forward, and placed beside the "metate," or tortilla-stone; and then, by the help of an oblong roller--also of stone--a portion of the boiled maize was soon reduced to snow-white paste. The metate and roller were now laid aside, and the pretty, rose-coloured fingers of Rosita were thrust into the paste. The proper quantity for a "tortilla" was taken up, first formed into a round ball, and then clapped out between the palms until it was only a wafer's thickness. Nothing remained but to fling it on the hot surface of the comal, let it lie but for an instant, then turn it, and in a moment more it was ready for eating. These operations, which required no ordinary adroitness, were performed by Rosita with a skill that showed she was a practised "tortillera." When a sufficient number were piled upon the plate, Rosita desisted from her labour, and her mother having already "dished" the guisado, both commenced their repast, eating without knife, fork, or spoon. The tortillas, being still warm, and therefore capable of being twisted into any form, served as a substitute for all these contrivances of civilisation, which in a Mexican rancho are considered superfluous things. Their simple meal was hardly over when a very unusual sound fell upon their ears. "Ho! what's that?" cried Rosita, starting to her feet, and listening. The sound a second time came pealing through the open door and windows. "I declare it's a bugle!" said the girl. "There must be soldiers." She ran first to the door, and then up to the cactus-fence. She peered through the interstices of the green columns. Sure enough there were soldiers. A troop of lancers was marching by twos down the valley, and not far off. Their glittering armour, and the pennons of their lances, gave them a gay and attractive appearance. As Rosita's eyes fell upon them, they were wheeling into line, halting, as they finished the movement, with their front to the rancho, and not a hundred paces from the fence. The house was evidently the object of their coming to a halt. What could soldiers want there? This was Rosita's first reflection. A troop often passed up and down the valley, but never came near the rancho, which, as already stated, was far from the main road. What business could the soldiers be upon, to lead them out of their usual track?