"Heaven grant that the mischief is no greater; but what are we to do now?"
"Proceed to the nearest mesón to get rid of our horses."
"I ask for nothing better; lead me there directly."
"Where are we, in the first place?" the peon said, as he looked round to discover his whereabouts. "¡Viva Dios!" he continued at the expiration of a moment, "We are in luck; there is a mesón a few yards from here; come on."
They started again, and soon reached the mesón Diego López had spoken of. Mexican hostelries are all alike, and when you know one, you know a thousand. Travellers who bring with them their beds, provisions, and forage for their horses are alone certain of being well served, and wanting for nothing; those who neglect these essential precautions run a great risk of lying on the bare ground and dying of hunger. The landlords only supply water and a roof, and it is useless to ask them for anything beyond that: not even a cigarette could be obtained for any money. It is true that Mexican landlords possess one precious quality, or, to speak more logically, four. They are thievish, insolent, obstinate as mules, and only lodge travellers who have the good luck to please them.
Fortunate it was that Diego López had long been acquainted with the landlord to whose house he led his comrades. Had it not been so, they would have run a great risk of not finding a shelter for the night. But, thanks to the peon's omnipotent intervention, the landlord consented to receive the travellers, and allowed them to lead their horses to the _corral_. When the horses had been unsaddled, and a good stock of alfalfa and maize had been laid before them, the Canadian wrapped himself up in his zarapé, and prepared to go out.
"You know very well," he answered; "I am going to the palace."
"You are quite determined, in spite of what I said to you?"
"¡Caray! To accompany you. How do you expect to find your way through a town you have entered today for the first time in your life?"
The peon, after giving his companions orders to await his return, and bowing courteously to the landlord, who deigned to return his salute with a protecting air, left the mesón, accompanied by the Canadian. To do full justice to Oliver Clary, we will allow that he was anything but reassured as to the probable results of the step he was about to take, and the words of the peon buzzed in his ears. He did not make the slightest mistake as to his position, and in spite of the assurances the count had given him, he was perfectly well aware that he ran a risk of being hung, if the man before whom he was about to appear were such as he had been represented.