"Senor Capitan," he said, still speaking in Spanish, and hugging me like
a bear, "accept my thanks. Ah, sir! you have saved my children; how can
I show you my gratitude?"

Here followed a multitude of those complimentary expressions peculiar to
the language of Cervantes, which ended by his offering me his house and
all it contained.

I bowed in acknowledgment of his courtesy, apologising for being so ill
prepared to receive his "hug", as I observed that my saturated vestments
had wet the old fellow to the skin.

I had now time to examine the stranger, who was a tall, thin, sallow old
gentleman, with a face at once Spanish and intelligent. His hair was
white and short, while a moustache, somewhat grizzled, shaded his lips.
Jet-black brows projected over a pair of keen and sparkling eyes. His
dress was a roundabout of the finest white linen, with waistcoat and
pantaloons of the same material--the latter fastened round the waist by
a scarf of bright red silk. Shoes of green morocco covered his small
feet, while a broad Guayaquil hat shaded his face from the sun.

Though his costume was transatlantic--speaking in reference to Old
Spain--there was that in his air and manner that bespoke him a true
hidalgo.

After a moment's observation I proceeded, in my best Spanish, to express
my regret for the fright which the young ladies--his daughters, I
presumed--had suffered.

The Mexican looked at me with a slight appearance of surprise.

"Why, Senor Capitan," said he, "your accent!--you are a foreigner?"

"A foreigner! To Mexico, did you mean?"

"Yes, Senor. Is it not so?"

"Oh! of course," answered I, smiling, and somewhat puzzled in turn.

"And how long have you been in the army, Senor Capitan?"

"But a short time."

"How do you like Mexico, Senor?"

"I have seen but little of it as yet."

"Why, how long have you been in the country, then?"

"Three days," answered I; "we landed on the 9th."

"_Por Dios_! three days, and in our army already!" muttered the
Spaniard, throwing up his eyes in unaffected surprise.

I began to think I was interrogated by a lunatic.

"May I ask what countryman you are?" continued the old gentleman.

"What countryman? An American, of course!"

"An American?"

"_Un Americano_," repeated I, for we were conversing in Spanish.

"_Y son esos Americanos_?" (And are these Americans?) quickly demanded
my new acquaintance.

"_Si, Senor_," replied I.

"_Carrambo_!" shouted