"Where's the butter, Nicolas?" asked Harry.

"Butter, _caballero_? I did not understand that you wished it.
I will get it. I will run all the way to the kitchen and back."

"Never mind the butter this morning, Nicolas," spoke up Tom, at
the same time kicking Harry gently under the table.

"Can I serve you further, now, _caballeros_" inquired Nicolas,
with great respect, "or shall I bring you the remainder of your
breakfast?"

"Bring us the rest of the breakfast, by all means," begged Harry,
and the servant left them.

"Why did you tell him not to mind the butter?" grunted Hazelton.

"Because," Tom answered, "it struck me that, in Mexico, it may
not be customary to serve butter in the morning."

Harry took a bite of one of the rolls, finding it to be soft,
flaky and delicious. Then he removed another linen covering from
the pot and started to pour the chocolate. That beverage did
not come as freely as he had expected.

"What ails the stuff?" grunted Hazelton. "This isn't the first
of April."

Then Harry removed the lid from the pot, glancing inside, next