ed lustrous light over the tropical scene of beauty.
It was a delightful evening. Tom and Harry, when they retired,
found themselves ready to sleep instantly. Their bedrooms opened
into a common parlor. Early in the morning they were astir.

"What shall we wear, Tom?" inquired Hazelton, going toward his trunks.

"Eh?"

"I wonder what people wear in Mexico," Harry continued. "I don't
want to make any mistake in my clothing."

"The best clothing for engineers about to go down into a mine will
be top-boots, khaki trousers and flannel shirts."

"But will that be suitable to go to breakfast in?" Harry asked.
"Will it be showing sufficient courtesy to our host? And suppose
the daughter should be at table?"

"That's so," Reade nodded. "I am sorry that we didn't fish for points
last evening."

A knock came at the door.

"Aqui!" (here) Tom answered.

The door opened slowly. A man servant of perhaps twenty-five years,
attired in clean white clothes, but bare-footed, stood in the
doorway, bowing very low.

"_Buenos dias_, _caballeros_!" (good morning, gentlemen) was his
greeting.

Tom invited him to enter.

"_Caballeros_," announced the _peon_, "I am your servant, your
slave, your dog! My name is Nicolas."

"How do you do, Nicolas," responded Tom, holding out his hand,
which the Mexican appeared too dazed, or too respectful to take.
"We may find a servant useful. But we never kept slaves, and
we wouldn't dream of calling any man a dog."

"I am your dog, _caballeros_," Nicolas asserted. "I am yours to do
with as you wish. Beat me, if I do not perform my work well."

"But I wouldn't beat a dog. Almost any dog is too fine a fellow
to be served in that fashion," Tom explained.

"_Caballeros_, I am here to receive your pleasure and commands
concerning breakfast."

"Is it ready?" demanded Harry hopefully.

"The kitchen is open, and the cooks there," Nicolas responded.
"When your excellency's orders have been given the cooks will prepare
your meal with great dispatch."

"Has Don Luis come down yet?" Tom inquired.

"No; for his great excellency has not yet eaten," answered the _peon_.

"Oh! Then your master eats in his own room?" Tom asked.

"Don Luis eats always his breakfast in bed," Nicolas told them.

"Then I guess we were too fresh, Tom, in getting up," laughed Harry.

As this was spoken in English, Nicolas, not understanding, paid
no heed. Tom and Harry, on the other hand, had a conversa