he breast-pocket of the cibolero's
jacket was a "bolsa," filled with rare stuff, also a present from the
Wacoes, who promised some day that their guest should have more of the
same. What did that bolsa contain? coin? money? jewels? No. It
contained only dust; but that dust was yellow and glittering. It was
_gold_!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

On the second day after the fiesta there was a small dining party at the
Presidio. Merely a few bachelor friends of the Comandante--the _beaux
esprits_ of the place--including the fashionable Echevarria. The cura
was among the number, and also the mission padres, both of whom enjoyed
the convivialities of the table equal to any "friar of orders grey."

The company had gone through the numerous courses of a Mexican meal--the
"pucheros", "guisados," and endless mixtures of "chile,"--and the dinner
was at that stage when the cloth has been carried off, and the wine
flows freely, "Canario" and "Xeres", "Pedro do Ximenes", "Madeira," and
"Bordeos," in bottles of different shapes, stood upon the table; and for
those who liked a stronger beverage there was a flask of golden
"Catalan," with another of Maraschino. A well-stored cellar was that of
the Comandante. In addition to his being military governor, he was, as
already hinted, collector of the _derechos de consume_, or custom-house
dues. Hence he was the recipient of many a little present, as now and
then a basket of champagne or a dozen of Bordeaux.

His company had got fairly into the wine. The cura had thrown aside his
sanctity and become _human_ like the rest; the padres had forgotten
their sackcloth and bead-roll, and the senior of them, Padre Joaquin,
entertained the table with spicy adventures which had occurred to him
_before_ he became a monk. Echevarria related anecdotes of Paris, with
many adventures he had encountered among the grisettes.

The Spanish officers being the hosts were, of course, least talkative,
though the Comandante--vain as any young sub who wore his epaulettes for
the first time--could not refrain from alluding occasionally to his
terrible list of _bonnes fortunes_ among the fair Sevillanas. He had
long been stationed at the city of oranges, and "la gracia Andalusiana"
was ever his theme of admiration.

Roblado believed in the belles of the Havannah, and descanted upon the
plump, material beauty which is characteristic of the Quadroons; while
the lieutenant expressed his _penchant_ for the smal