hem all, determined to find out which he might like
best--a piece of knowledge that he said would serve him upon some future
occasion.

The Don seemed to take a pleasure in helping the major, whom he honoured
by the title of "Senor Coronel."

"_Puchero_, Senor Coronel?"

"Thank you, sir," grunted the major, and tried the puchero.

"Allow me to help you to a spoonful of _mole_."

"With pleasure, Don Cosme."

The _mole_ suddenly disappeared down the major's capacious throat.

"Try some of this _chile relleno_."

"By all means," answered the major. "Ah, by Jove! hot as fire!--whew!"

"_Pica! Pica_!" answered Don Cosme, pointing to his thorax, and smiling
at the wry faces the major was making. "Wash it down, Senor, with a
glass of this claret--or here, Pepe! Is the Johannisberg cool yet?
Bring it in, then. Perhaps you prefer champagne, Senores?"

"Thank you; do not trouble yourself, Don Cosme."

"No trouble, Capitan--bring champagne. Here, Senor Coronel, try the
_guisado de pato_."

"Thank you," stammered the major; "you are very kind. Curse the thing!
how it burns!"

"Do you think he understands English?" inquired Clayey of me in a
whisper.

"I should think not," I replied.

"Well, then, I wish to say aloud that this old chap's a superb old gent.
What say you, Major? Don't you wish we had him on the lines?"

"I wish his kitchen were a little nearer the lines," replied the other,
with a wink.

"Senor Coronel, permit me--"

"What is it, my dear Don?" inquired the major.

"_Pasteles de Moctezuma_."

"Oh, certainly. I say, lads, I don't know what the plague I'm eating--
it's not bad to take, though."

"Senor Coronel, allow me to help you to a _guana_ steak."

"A guana steak!" echoed the major, in some surprise.

"_Si, Senor_," replied Don Cosme, holding the steak on his fork.

"A guana steak! Do you think, lads, he means the ugly things we saw at
Lobos."

"To be sure--why not?"

"Then, by Jove, I'm through! I can't go lizards. Thank you, my dear
Don Cosme; I believe I have dined."

"Try this; it is very tender, I assure you," insisted Don Cosme.

"Come, try it, Major, and report," cried Clayey.

"Good--you're like the apothecary that poisoned his dog to try the
effect of his nostrums. Well,"--with an oath--"here goes! It can't be
very bad, seeing how our friend gets it down. Delicious, by Jupiter!
tender as chicken--good, good!"--and amidst sundry similar ejaculations
the m