The boys slept soundly between two excellent Mission blankets in a
corner of the hut, whose walls and floors had been well swept with
Mission brooms. Anastacio, despite his contempt for the trammels of
civilisation, had developed an aristocratic taste or two. He slept by
the door, but when the boys awoke he was not there. The pueblo, but for
two sentinels standing before the door, was apparently deserted. The
sun was looking over the highest peak, suffusing the black aisles of
the forest with a rosy glow, reddening the snow on hut and level and
rocky heights. There was not a sound except the faint murmur of the
treetops.
"Where is the world?" asked Roldan. "Are there ranches, with cavalcades
and bull-fights, lazy caballeros lying in hammocks smoking cigarritos,
or dancing the night through with silly girls? Dios de mi alma! I feel
as if I did not care."
"Caramba!" exclaimed Adan, "I am famished. Do you suppose they have
left us anything to eat?"
"I suppose there is nothing to do but ask one of these dogs to be good
enough to give us breakfast--no, not ask. I could starve, but not beg
of an Indian."
He beckoned haughtily to one of the sentinels, who approached and
saluted respectfully.
"Breakfast," said the young don, curtly. "We wish to eat at once."
The Indian went over to a large stone oven and took out four meal
cakes, which he carried to the boys, then fetched them fruit and wine.
"Where is Anastacio and the others?" asked Roldan, breakfast over.
"In the temascal."
Roldan sprang to his feet. "Do you hear that, Adan?" he cried. "We have
always wanted to see Indians in temascal." To the sentinel, "Take us
there at once."