at the upper end of the street. This last—a malicious fellow—had a huge platter of stewed mutton before him which he was eyeing; greedily; and perceiving that Josée, the head cook, was about to throw a bit of tortilla towards the Indian, he waved his hand between them, shouting,—
"'How is it that a thief like you dare to show his face within the fonda? As to your being hungry—pah! I don't believe a word of it.'
"'I am starving. Ah! Señores, pity me! I have not tasted food for three days space! I would thrust my hand into the blazing fire for a tortilla cake!'
"'Oh! you lying" dog!' replied Perata, 'you would thrust your hand into the fire, would you? Look ye, Señor Starvation, let me see you place your hand in the flame beneath that furnace, and I will give you the delicious meal here before me. But if not, vanish: take yourself away quickly; do you hear?'
"The Indian advanced to the charcoal fire, stooped down, placed his hand over the flame, and uttered a loud scream of pain. 'Now' he said, 'my supper is fairly earned.'
