"Si, señor," answered the man, in Spanish.
"Take me along then," put in Nuggy Polk. "I'll pay you well." And he jingled some coin in his pocket.
The native assented, and, leaping to the ground, he assisted the young man to a seat in the rear of the cart. Here there was some straw, upon which rested several bunches of plantains; and on this straw Nuggy Polk stretched himself, and in a moment more was sound asleep.
"You can take him to the Hotel for American Gentlemen," said Gilbert. "Do you know the place?"
"Yees, mistair. He has drank much, not so?"
"Yes. They know him at the hotel, though; and I reckon it will be all right. I'll ride behind."
No more was said, and soon the cart was on its way to the capital. Hardly a mile was covered when they came upon Jerry Nickerson, sitting on the wreck of the fancy cart, the picture of misery and despair. Broken bits of harness lay on the ground, and the ponies were nowhere in sight. Nickerson had had his left hand cut, and had the member bound up in his handkerchief.
