denly in this cut-throat quarter was dangerous, to follow him not less so.
"Where the devil do-you live?" said I. The lépero scratched his head in answer. I asked him again.
"To say the truth," replied he at last, "having no fixed abode, I live a little every where."
"And your wife and children, and the night's shelter you offered me?"
"I forgot," replied the Zaragate, imperturbably; "I sent away my wife and children yesterday to—to Queretaro; but as for a lodging—"
"Is that at Queretaro also?" I asked Perico, discovering, when too late, that the wife and children of this honorable personage were as imaginary as his abode.
"As for shelter," added Perico, with the same impassible air, "you shall share that which I can procure for you, and which I find when my means won't admit of paying for a night's lodging, for heaven does not send us every day bull-fights and such like wind falls. Stop," said he, pointing with his finger to a glimmering light at a distance, which was reflected on the granite pavement; "that is perhaps what we are seeking for."
We advanced to the light, and soon perceived that it came from the lantern of a sereno. Wrapped in a yellow cloak almost as ragged as Perico's, the guardian of the night, squatted on the pavement, seemed to follow with his melancholy gaze the large clouds which flitted across the sky. At our approach he still kept his indolent position.
"Halloo! friend," said the Zaragate, "do you know of any velorio (wake) in this neighborhood?"
