the answer was the slow movement of the long forefinger from right to left, and a "No hai!"
"Any eggs?"
"No hai!"
"Any tortillas?"
"No hai."
"Any pulqué?"
"No hai."
"Any chilé?"
"No hai."
"Any water?"
"No hai!"
"What have you got then?" exclaimed we, in a chorus of desperation.
"Nada!"— nothing!
We tried to coax them, but without effect; and, at length, we ordered a mule to be unladen, and our own provisions to he unpacked. This produced a stir in the household, as soon as it became evident that there was to be no high bid for food.
In a moment a clapping of hands was heard in the adjoining room, and I found a couple of women at work, one grinding corn for tortillas, and the other patting them into shape for the griddle. There were two or three other girls in the apartment, and, taking a seat on a log, and offering a cigarrito to each of them, I began a chat with the prettiest, while the tortillas were cooking. A cigarrito, a-piece, exhausted, and with them, half-a-dozen jokes, I offered another to each of the damsels, and found them getting into better humor. At length, one arose, and after rummaging among the pots in a corner, produced a couple of eggs, which she said should be cooked for me. I thanked her, and by a little persuasion, induced her to add half a dozen more for the rest of the party. By the time that the eggs were boiled and the tortillas baked, I suggested that a dish of mollé de guagelote would be delicious with them, and felt sure that a set of such pretty lasses must know how to make it. "Quien sabe?" said one of them. "Was there not some left from this morning?" said another; and they both arose at once and looked again into the pots. The result was the discovery of a pan heaped with the desired turkey and chilé, and another quite as full of delicious frijoles. These were placed for five minutes over the coals, and the consequence was, that out of "Nada," I contrived to cater a breakfast that fed our company, servants, and arriéro, and which would have doubtless fed the mules also, if mules ever indulged in chilé. I never made a heartier meal, relishing it greatly in spite of the dirty table-cloth, the dirty women, the dirty village, and the fact that my respected tortilla-maker, while engaged in her laudable undertakings, had occasionally varied the occupation, by bestowing a pat on the cake, and another, with the same hand, on the most delicate portion of the leather-breeches of a brat who annoyed her by his cries and his antics. I shall long remember those girls, and
