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“What is this noise?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, “and why are you people fighting in my garden? Go away, all of you, or I shall shoot at you.”

“I trust,” I said, bowing, “that the señor will pardon us for disturbing him in his slumber, but this matter could not be settled without some noise. May I offer the señor my serape? The air is chilly, and he will catch cold in that dress.”

“Thank you,” he said, putting on the serape. “And now perhaps you will explain why you come to spoil my garden by making a battle-field of it.”

Then I told him, and was astonished to see that as I went on he grew very angry.

“I suppose that I must thank you, gentlemen, for saving my life,” he said at last, “though I never asked you to do it. But, all the same, I think it shameless that you should have had this fight in my own garden, without giving me the opportunity of sharing it. Caramba! am I a little girl that I should be treated in such a way?” And of a sudden he burst out laughing and shook me by the hand.