part of my manga to stop up a hole in the roof that admitted the cold, and I took leave of him in the morning with many thanks for his munificent hospitality, which had been shown by his appropriating to him self three parts of my supper and the half of my cloak. Moreover, not many hours before he had tried to shoot me.
I mounted, and proceeded in the direction of the Cerro del Gigante. Armed with my lance, whose torn pennon bore witness to the danger I had run, escorted by Cecilio, and having the guitar of the Biscayan nobleman thumping on my back, I bore no uncertain resemblance to the wandering knight of La Mancha in search of adventures, attended by his trusty squire. This mission of mine was one of the most delicate kind, for now I had no doubt whatever but that we were on the traces of a Mexican bravo, and I had been following him for the last six days. I was quite convinced, however, that I had done nothing to get my self involved with Don Tomas.
The bravi of Mexico, like their compatriots in other countries where this formidable profession is exercised, begin at first by putting those to death to whom they become indebted at the gaming-table. It was, then, a point of the very greatest importance to establish my identity fully in the eyes of a fellow of this stamp, as I might probably, if this were not done, get a stab intended for some other person. This consideration deciding me above all, I repaired to the Cerro del Gigante, and in a short time arrived at a very pretty house at the foot of the mountain. A purling brook, shaded with sycamores, ran close by the door. My host of the preceding night had described the place to me too minutely to allow of my missing it. I ad-
