the opera company continued upon its homeward voyage to New Orleans.

* * * * *

On the camino real along the beach the two saddle mules and the four
pack mules of Don Senor Johnny Armstrong stood, patiently awaiting the
crack of the whip of the _arriero_, Luis. That would be the signal for
the start on another long journey into the mountains. The pack mules
were loaded with a varied assortment of hardware and cutlery. These
articles Don Johnny traded to the interior Indians for the gold dust
that they washed from the Andean streams and stored in quills and bags
against his coming. It was a profitable business, and Senor Armstrong
expected soon to be able to purchase the coffee plantation that he
coveted.

Armstrong stood on the narrow sidewalk, exchanging garbled Spanish
with old Peralto, the rich native merchant who had just charged him
four prices for half a gross of pot-metal hatchets, and abridged
English with Rucker, the little German who was Consul for the United
States.

"Take with you, senor," said Peralto, "the blessings of the saints
upon your journey."

"Better try quinine," growled Rucker through his pipe. "Take two
grains every night. And don't make your trip too long, Johnny,
because we haf needs of you. It is ein villainous game dot Melville
play of whist, and dere is no oder substitute. _Auf wiedersehen_, und
keep your eyes dot mule's ears between when you on der edge of der
brecipices ride."