y instead.

"Senora, tell me how we came here," he asked. "My head will burst until
I know."

"Our bell mare, the most valuable on our rancho, strayed far the day
before yesterday. All that day and the next six vaqueros looked for
her. One traced her to the Sierras and went on in spite of the storm.
He found her, and, just afterward--you. He thought you were dead, but
poured aguardiente down your throats. You swallowed but did not awaken,
although he shook you and pounded you. Then he strapped your
friend--Adan, no? upon the back of Lolita, took you in his arms, and
galloped for home--you were almost at the foot of the mountain. Ay! but
I was frightened when you came. Gracias a dios that you are well and
not frozen. Bueno, I go to send you a good breakfast. Hasta luego."

She went out, and Roldan lay wondering if the breakfast were already
cooked. The door opened again. Roldan sat up. But it was Adan. He wore
a long nightgown and dug his knuckles into his eyes. His knees, too,
were shaky.

"Hist, Roldan," he whispered loudly. "Are you there, or do I dream?"

"Come into my bed and have breakfast--breakfast, Adan!"

Adan gathered his remaining energies, bolted across the room, and
climbed into bed.

"Dios de mi alma, Roldan," he gasped. "Where are we, and why are we
sweltered like sick babies? This is a fine place. Ay! may I never see
snow nor a redwood again!"

Roldan told what he knew of the beginning of their new chapter, and
soon after he finished two Indian servants entered with trays, set them
on the bed, and retired.

"Ay! this looks like home," cried Adan, almost in tears. "Chocolate!
Tortillas! Chicken with yellow rice!" He crossed himself fervently and
attacked the fragrant meal.

It was not a large breakfast, for it was many hours since they had
eaten before; they left not a grain of rice nor a shred on a bone. But
half-satisfied, although very comfortable, they made up their minds to
dress. On the chair was a complete outfit, suitable for a young don.
Roldan concluded it had been thoughtfully placed at his disposal that
he might not appear in the sala of Casa Carillo garbed like a coyote.
How he hated the memory of that ugly and infested garment.

"I, too, have a silk jacket and breeches by my bed," said Adan, "and a
lace shirt and silk stockings, and shoes with buckles. There must be
those of our age in the Casa Carillo, my friend. Bueno! I go to make a
caballero of myself. Hasta luego."

He o