WELVE.

A MEXICAN DINNER.

"_Pasan adentro, Senores_," said Don Cosme, drawing aside the curtain of
the rancho, and beckoning us to enter.

"Ha!" exclaimed the major, struck with the _coup-d'oeil_ of the
interior.

"Be seated, gentlemen. _Ya vuelvo_." (I will return in an instant.)

So saying, Don Cosme disappeared into a little porch in the back,
partially screened from observation by a close network of woven cane.

"Very pretty, by Jove!" said Clayley, in a low voice.

"Pretty indeed!" echoed the major, with one of his customary
asseverations.

"Stylish, one ought rather to say, to do it justice."

"Stylish!" again chimed in the major, repeating his formula.

"Rosewood chairs and tables," continued Clayley; "a harp, guitar, piano,
sofas, ottomans, carpets knee-deep--whew!"

Not thinking of the furniture, I looked around the room strangely
bewildered.

"Ha! Ha! what perplexes you, Captain?" asked Clayley.

"Nothing."

"Ah! the girls you spoke of--the nymphs of the pond; but where the deuce
are they?"

"Ay, where?" I asked, with a strange sense of uneasiness.

"Girls! what girls?" inquired the major, who had not yet learned the
exact nature of our aquatic adventure.

Here the voice of Don Cosme was heard calling out--

"Pepe! Ramon! Francisco! bring dinner. _Anda! anda_!" (Be quick!)

"Who on earth is the old fellow calling?" asked the major, with some
concern in his manner. "I see no one."

Nor could we; so we all rose up together, and approached that side of
the building that looked rearward.

The house, to all appearance, had but one apartment--the room in which
we then were. The only point of this screened from observation was the
little veranda into which Don Cosme had entered; but this was not large
enough to contain the number of persons who might be represented by the
names he had called out.

Two smaller buildings stood under the olive-trees in the rear; but
these, like the house, were _transparent_, and not a human figure
appeared within them. We could see through the trunks of the olives a
clear distance of a hundred yards. Beyond this, the mezquite and the
scarlet leaves of the wild maguey marked the boundary of the forest.

It was equally puzzling to us whither the girls had gone, or whence
"Pepe, Ramon, and Francisco" were to come.

The tinkling of a little bell startled us from our conjectures, and the
voice of Don Cosme was heard inquiring:

"Have you any favo