t want to come back to a cold breakfast."

So both seated themselves, regretting the absence of morning newspapers.

Then the time began to drag. Finally the delay became wearisome.

"I wonder how many people Nicolas is serving this morning?" murmured
Hazelton, at last.

"Everyone in the house would be my guess," laughed Tom. Still time
dragged by.

"What on earth will Don Luis think of us?" Harry grunted.

"There is only one thing for it, if this delay lasts any longer,"
Tom answered. "If this delay lasts much longer we shall have
to put off breakfast until to-morrow and get to work."

"Put off breakfast until to-morrow?" Hazelton gasped. "That's
where I draw the line. Before I'll stir a step from here I must
have at least food enough to grubstake a canary bird."

Some minutes later, Nicolas rapped at the door. He then entered,
bearing a tray enveloped in snowy linen. This tray he put down,
then spread a tablecloth that he had brought over one arm.

"Will you be seated, _caballeros_?" he asked, respectfully, as
he took his stand by the tray. Then he whisked away the linen
cover. Gravely he set upon the table a pot of chocolate, two
dainty cups and saucers and a plate containing four rolls.

"Where's the butter, Nicolas?" asked Harry.

"Butter, _caballero_? I did not understand that you wished it.
I will get it. I will run all the way to the kitchen and back."

"Never mind the butter this morning, Nicolas," spoke up Tom, at
the same time kicking Harry gently under the table.

"Can I serve you further, now, _caballeros_" inquired Nicolas,
with great respect, "or shall I bring you the remainder of your
breakfast?"

"Bring us the rest of the breakfast, by all means," begged Harry,
and the servant left them.

"Why did you tell him not to mind the butter?" grunted Hazelton.

"Because," Tom answered, "it struck me that, in Mexico, it may
not be customary to serve butter in the morning."

Harry took a bite of one of the rolls, finding it to be soft,
flaky and delicious. Then he removed another linen covering from
the pot and started to pour the chocolate. That beverage did
not come as freely as he had expected.

"What ails the stuff?" grunted Hazelton. "This isn't the first
of April."

Then Harry removed the lid from the pot, glancing inside, next
he picked up a spoon and stirred the contents of the pot.

"I wish Nicolas were here," said Hazelton.

"Why?" Tom wanted to know.

"I'm bot