one feels a craving for the nicotian weed, to consume it in some way--
pipe, cigar, or cigaritto.

As the circle of three assemble in their little sitting-room, after a
frugal supper, tobacco is the Colonel's chief care, and becomes the
first topic of conversation.

"Carramba!" he explains, as if some new idea had entered his head, "I
couldn't have believed in a man suffering so much from such a trifling
cause."

"What are you referring to?" interrogates the doctor.

"The thing you're thinking of at this moment, _amigo mio_. I'll make a
wager it's the same."

"As you know, colonel, I never bet."

"Nor I upon a certainty, as in this case it would be. I know what your
mind's bent upon--tobacco."

"I confess it, colonel. I want a smoke, bad as ever I did in my life."

"Sol."

"But why don't you both have it, then?"

It is Adela who thus innocently interrogates.

"For the best of all reasons," rejoins her brother. "We haven't the
wherewith."

"What! no cigarittos? I saw some yesterday on one of the shelves."

"But not to day. At this moment there isn't a pinch of tobacco within
twenty miles of where we sit, unless our late guests have made a very
short day's march. I gave them the last I had to comfort them on the
journey."

"Yes, senorita," adds the doctor, "and something quite as bad, if not
worse. Our bottles are empty. The wine is out as well as the weed."

"In that," interrupts the Colonel, "I'm happy to say you're mistaken.
It's not so bad as you think, doctor. True, the pigskin has collapsed;
for the throat of the huge Texan was as difficult to saturate as the
most parched spot on the Staked Plain. Finding it so, I took occasion
to abstract a good large gourd, and set it surreptitiously aside. I did
that to meet emergencies. As one seems to have arisen, I think the
hidden treasure may now be produced."

Saying this, the colonel steps out of the room, soon returning with a
large calabash bottle.

Conchita is summoned, and directed to bring drinking cups, which she
does.

Miranda, pouring out the wine says,--

"This will cheer us; and, in truth, we all need cheering. I fancy
there's enough to last us till Manuel makes his reappearance with a
fresh supply. Strange his not having returned. He's had time to do all
his bargainings and been back three days ago. I hoped to see him home
before our friends took departure, so that I could better have provided
them for their journey.