the furnace; and there lay Perata struggling and screeching on the ground, with the scalding-hot mixture pouring down over his head and neck.
" 'Santisima Virgen! yo ho! Santisima Virgen!' yelled the scalded wretch, as he placed his hands upon the parts affected.
" 'Santisima Virgen!' exclaimed the cook, as the ladle, missing its aim, shattered to pieces the only entire pane of glass of which the fonda had been able to boast for many a day.
" 'Santisima Virgen!' cried the waiter, as he saw the viands vanish, and the fragments flying about.
" 'Santisima Virgen!' echoed the Indian, with a grin of triumph; pausing for a moment at the door, before decamping with his strangely-gotten repast.
"And so, Señor, that Perata came in for the worst part of the adventure, after all."
