By this time Strawbridge was convinced that she had not observed his false step. He was still warm, and a little shivery, but he was recovering. He said very simply and truthfully:
“Well, I'm glad you did n't. If I have to stay in Canalejos, I'm glad there is an agreeable woman in it to talk to.”
The señora expressed her pleasure if she could enliven his stay at Canalejos, and as they talked Coronel Saturnino entered the breakfast-room. He bowed to the señora and inquired of Strawbridge, in his somewhat amused voice, if he had slept well after his enlistment.
Oh, yes, he had slept like a top.
“Enlistment?” echoed the señora. “Seguramente,” smiled the colonel. “Señor Strawbridge has enlisted in the cavalry to march against San Geronimo.” Señora Fombombo seemed utterly astonished. She stared at the colonel, then at the drummer.
“You don't mean Señor Strawbridge will be in the cavalry attack on San Geronimo?”
“Yes, señora; I arranged his billet last night.” The colonel made a smiling bow.
The girl turned to the American.
“But why are you going to fight at San Geronimo, señor?” she asked.
Strawbridge hesitated, cleared his throat, glanced through the vine-grown lattice into the sunshine, then apparently came to some inward decision.
“Now, it's like this, señora,” he began, getting back the ring and confidence in his voice which had heretofore been missing: “It's like this. In order to meet your clients' needs you've got to get first-hand information.” He patted his right fingers against his left palm and looked the señora squarely in the eye for the first time. “Before you can grasp your patrons' problems, you've got to make 'em yours. Why, the first thing my old man said to me, he said: ‘Straw-
