Ned judged that they would not take any deep interest in the fortunes
of their rulers, Spanish or Mexican, royalist or republican.

He pulled his cap over his eyes and a little to one side, and strolled
on, humming an old Mexican air. His walk was the swagger of a young
Mexican gallant, and in the dimness they would not notice his Northern
fairness. Several pairs of eyes observed him, but not with disapproval.
They considered him a trim Mexican lad. Some of the men in the doorways
took up the air that he was whistling and continued it.

He saw soon the place for which he was looking, a tiny shop in which an
old Indian sold serapes. He stopped in the doorway, which he filled,
took down one of the best and heaviest and held out the number of
dollars which he considered an adequate price. The Indian shook his head
and asked for nearly twice as much. Ned knew how long they bargained and
chaffered in Mexico and what a delight they took in it. After an hour's
talk he could secure the serape, at the price he offered, but he dared
not linger in one place. Already the old Indian was looking at him
inquiringly. Doubtless he had seen that this was no Mexican, but Ned
judged shrewdly that he would not let the fact interfere with a
promising bargain.

The boy acted promptly. He added two more silver dollars to the amount
that he had proffered, put the whole in the old Indian's palm, took down
the serape, folded it over his arm, and with a "gracias, señor," backed
swiftly out of the shop. The old Indian was too much astonished to move
for at least a half minute. Then tightly clutching the silver in his
hand he ran into the street. But the tall young señor, with the serape
already wrapped around his shoulders, was disappearing in the darkness.
The Indian opened his palm and looked at the silver. A smile passed over