faithful indulgence in
vintages), not younger than forty, yet aggressive, vibrating with
physical power, elasticity, and an overweening insolence. His manner of
approach--and he entered this tavern with the same studied grace with
which he swaggered into half a hundred others--seemed to indicate that
he delighted in disorganizing and terrorizing whatever he might find
established and orderly--wherever he might find it!

Beholding the somnolent proprietor, he advanced quietly to the middle
of the big room. Then, with malicious enjoyment of the effect, he
banged his riding-crop violently upon the table, close to the tavern
keeper's ear.

"Hey, you Pedro!" he roared. "Wake up, you blockhead--wake up, I say!"

There was only a response of snores.

"You, Pedro, attention! What's the matter here? Where are you? Wake up
and stop your dreaming!"

At this the startled landlord leaped to his feet, bowing through force
of habit.

"Ah, Senor Robledo! One thousand pardons!" he gasped timorously. "What
can I do for you, sir?"

"You're a wretch of a tavern keeper," and the newcomer advanced upon
the unhappy Pedro as though about to slay him for his drowsiness.

"Yes, senor! You are always right." The man humbly endeavored to
collect his wits. "How may I serve your lordship?"

The bully swaggered, puffed his cheeks, and feeling that his host was
finally awake to the seriousness of the situation, he cried out once
more: "My horse stands outside by the post. He has been hard ridden,
for I have come on an important mission. Varlet, go out and wash his
mouth, dry him down, and don't give him water until he has cooled off.
Are you finally awake, you idiotic Pedro?"

The tavern keeper gulped fearsomely, and bowed his most fetching bow,
without result.

"My horse is almost dead on his legs. Be kind to him. I've had a hard
ride over these miserable province roads. As for me--I want a flask of
... well ... of something decent. I know that's not in your line. Step
lively now; and mind you, draw it from your private cask. My temper is
no better than it should be, to-night."

The old man bowed and started to leave the big room.

The blustering guest howled at him once more, punctuating his remarks
with the butt of the whip.

"Where's your daughter?"

The old man trembled and bowed once more.

"I'll call her," Pedro said apologetically. "She'll be right here,
sir."

He went to the door at the right, and shouted quaveringly: "