"My orders have been obeyed, I hope," resumed Jago.

"Thy orders obeyed, knave!" interupted Don Manuel bitterly, without
letting Jago finish his phrase.

"Mexico calls me Vicente Guerero," was the dry but dignified reply of the
ex-arriero; "and henceforward I must beg of your young senoria to address
me by that name."

And with these words, the former muleteer, now suddenly transformed into
one of Mexico's most distinguished generals, turned his back upon the
astonished Don Manuel, amidst the loud laughter of the bystanders.

"Let the men get their breakfast at once," continued Guerero to Major
Galeana, "so that they may have at least three hours' siesta. Be kind
enough to give me a cigar," he added to another of his officers. "Ha!
there are _tortillas_," laughed he, stepping up to a group of Indian
women, who were busied baking the much-esteemed maize cakes, and had
crept towards him in order to kiss the hem of his garment. "They are good,
Matta," said he, with a smile, to one of the girls, taking a tortilla from
the pan, stretching out his hand for the Chili pepper, and sprinkling the
cake with the pungent condiment. "One more, Matta. So--try them,
gentlemen, you will find them excellent."

The aides-de-camp and generals hastened to follow the example of their
chief.

"Apropos, Major Galeana," resumed the latter; "two Spaniards were caught
trying to escape. Let them be strung up. Senor Conde," he continued,
turning to his prisoner Carlos, "you are our guest, I hope, and your
friend also, if he will so far condescend. But where is he? Where is Don
Manuel?"

Common and reckless as Guerero's manner undoubtedly was, there was,
nevertheless, a something about him highly attractive; the more so, as the
most superficial observer could easily discern that his abruptness was the
result, not of a consciousness of great power, but of a wish to make
himself popular with his followers. During the last of the pauses
occasioned in his desultory discourse by his attacks upon the maize cakes,
an officer came up and made a report, which seemed strongly to interest
the general.

"The devil!" cried he. "The Leperos on the heights of Ajotla, say you? Let
us have a look at them."

And so saying, he started off at a pace with which not one of his
followers was able to keep up, and in a very few minutes had ascended an
eminence commanding a distant view of the road from Puebla de los Angeles
to the capital, while in the still re