He
hoped to find at the canal one of the bergantins, or flat-bottomed
boats, in which vegetables, fruit and flowers were brought to the city
for sale. They were good-natured people, those of the bergantins, and
they would not scorn the offer of a stout lad to help with sail and oar.
Hidden in his serape and sombrero, and, secure in his knowledge of
Spanish and Mexican, he now advanced boldly through the more populous
and better lighted parts of the city. He even lingered a little while in
front of a cafe, where men were playing guitar and mandolin, and girls
were dancing with castanets. The sight of light and life pleased the boy
who had been so long in prison. These people were diverting themselves
and they smiled and laughed. They seemed to have kindly feelings for
everybody, but he remembered that cruel Spanish strain, often dormant,
but always there, and he hastened on.
Three officers, their swords swinging at their thighs, came down the
narrow street abreast. At another time Ned would not have given way, and
even now it hurt him to do so, but prudence made him step from the
sidewalk. One of them laughed and applied an insulting epithet to the
"peon," but Ned bore it and continued, his sombrero pulled well down
over his eyes.
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