ters of the windows as well. Not a soul was
to be seen outside, not even the apparition of a frightened peon. I had
given my Texan lieutenant his cue; he knew enough of Spanish for the
purpose.

Flinging himself out of the saddle, he approached the gate, and
commenced hammering upon it with the butt of his pistol.

"_Ambre la puerta_!" (Open the door!) cried he.

No answer.

"_La puerta_--_la puerta_!" he repeated in a louder tone.

Still no answer.

"_Ambre la puerta_!" once more vociferated the lieutenant, at the same
time thundering on the woodwork with his weapon.

When the noise ceased, a faint "_Quien es_?" (Who is it?) was heard
from within.

"_Yo_!" bawled Wheatley, "_ambre! ambre_!"

"_Si, senor_," answered the voice in a somewhat tremulous key.

"_Anda! anda! Somos hombres de bien_!" (Quick then! We are honest
men.)

A rattling of chains and shooting of bolts now commenced, and lasted for
at least a couple of minutes, at the end of which time the great
folding-doors opened inward, displaying to view the swarthy leather-clad
_portero_, the brick-paved _saguan_, and a portion of the _patio_, or
courtyard within.

As soon as the door was fairly open, Wheatley made a rush at the
trembling porter, caught him by the jerkin, boxed both his ears, and
then commanded him in a loud voice to summon the _dueno_!

This conduct, somewhat unexpected on the part of the rangers, seemed to
be just to their taste; and I could hear behind me the whole troop
chuckling in half-suppressed laughter. _Guerilleros_ as they were, they
had never been allowed much licence in their dealings with the
inhabitants--the non-combatants--of the country, and much less had they
witnessed such conduct on the part of their officers. Indeed, it was
cause of complaint in the ranks of the American army, and with many
officers too, that even hostile Mexicans were treated with a lenient
consideration denied to themselves. Wheatley's behaviour, therefore,
touched a chord in the hearts of our following, that vibrated pleasantly
enough; they began to believe that the campaign was about to become a
little more jolly.

"_Senor_," stammered the porter, "the du--du--dueno has given or--
orders--he wi--wi--will not s-see any one."

"_Will_ not?" echoed Wheatley; "go, tell him he _must_!"

"Yes, _amigo_," I said soothingly; for I began to fear the man would be
too badly frightened to deliver his message. "Go, say to your master
tha