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Updated: May 27, 2025
All they can do will be to sit there in their ships and look at the city." "Come in, Señor Carfora," said Señora Paez. "I cannot tell you how glad we are to see you. Yes, we have very important letters. I may suppose that yours are from the general. Please let me have them." "Do, Señor Carfora!" said Señora Tassara. "I cannot wait a moment.
Much more agreeable for them might have been a march across the central table-lands beyond, at an elevation of four thousand feet above the sea level and the tierra caliente. That was precisely the kind of pleasant journey that was performed by Ned Crawford and the imposing Tassara cavalcade on the morrow and during a couple of wonderful days which followed.
The sooner you are ready, the better. I will be back in five minutes." Open came the bag, but the best Ned could do in the way of style was a very neat blue suit. What he would have called the swallow-tails, which Señora Tassara might have expected as the dinner dress of a more important guest, could hardly be required of a young fellow just escaped from a norther.
"I guess he feels at home here," thought Ned, as he went down-stairs with Felicia and Señora Tassara, and his confidence in that state of affairs grew stronger as he walked along the central hall of the house. "Pablo!" he exclaimed, to a man who lay sprawled out upon the floor, but the general's Oaxaca follower made him no reply.
What do you think about it?" "Think?" exclaimed Tassara, angrily. "I think it will be after you and I are dead and buried before this miserable half-republic, half-oligarchy, will be blessed with a solid government like that of the United States." "And that, too, might get into hot water," muttered his friend, but neither of the two political prophets appeared to have much more to say.
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