moment that Peralta becomes my debtor, his life is valuable to me, and I require you to respect it."
"Señor Peralta will pay with pleasure, I uphold," said the Mexican, softly, sipping his liquor by mouthfuls as if it burned him, while the American emptied his glass of refino at a single draught, like so much water.
"Make him pay, that's all I care about," said the licentiate. "But is not that Pepito Rechifla with my clerk over there? That's capital! Ortiz has not been long about his business."
The name of Pepito reminded me of the pretty China that I had seen with such a sad face in the Merchants' Arcades. I contemplated the man pointed out by the licentiate with some curiosity. He was a fellow with a sunburned complexion, shaggy, unkempt hair, and a bold, shameless face such a one as is met with nowhere but in the tents of the wandering Bohemians or in the streets of Mexico. "Ah! Señor Licentiate," cried he, "I shall never forget that I owe my life to you. I was to be garroted the day after to-morrow, and it was you who extricated me from the claws of the juez de letras (criminal judge). Some reals from your purse restored me to freedom. Yes, Señor Licentiate, don't be astonished; I know you are my savior; your clerk has told me all."
"Ortiz is a fool!" replied Don Tadeo, dryly; "but I am rejoiced at your good fortune, for I wished to speak with you. I need your assistance. Here's a piastre for your supper."
"Thank you. I am never hungry but when my pocket is empty. When I have a piastre I stake it."
And the fellow hastened to the table. The Yankee and Mexican rose also, and followed him. Don Tadeo,
