"_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.