"Oh, you go to the devil," he shouted, and turned away. He saw me
observing him, and as I was the only person present who looked as
though he understood English, he grinned at me sheepishly, and nodded.

"I don't care for him," he said. "He can't frighten me."

I considered this as equivalent to an introduction.

"You are the United States Consul?" I asked. The young man nodded
briskly.

"Yes; I am. Where do you come from?"

"Dobbs Ferry, near New York," I answered. "I'd---I'd like to have a
talk with you, when you are not busy."

"That's all right," he said. "I'm not busy now. That bumboat pirate
queered the only business I had. Where are you going to stop? There is
only one place," he explained; "that's Pulido's. He'll knife you if he
thinks you have five dollars in your belt, and the bar-room is half
under water anyway. Or you can take a cot in my shack, if you like,
and I'll board and lodge you for two pesos a day--that's one dollar in
our money. And if you are going up country," he went on, "I can fit
you out with mules and mozos and everything you want, from canned
meats to an escort of soldiers. You're sure to be robbed anyway," he
urged, pleasantly, "and you might as well give the job to a fellow-
countryman. I'd hate to have one of these greasers get it."

"You're welcome to try," I said, laughing.