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 Lieutenant Bartholomew. "My own house is at your service."

"Go with Lieutenant Bartholomew's sergeant, lads," Lieutenant Pike directed. "Guard your tongues and actions and remember your duty to your Government."

Beckoning with a flash of white teeth underneath his ferocious moustache the dragoon sergeant took them to the barracks. These were another long building on the right of the first building, fronting upon the west side of the square and protected by a wall with a court inside.

At a sign from the sergeant they stacked their muskets and hung their pistols, in the court. Then they were led in to supper.

"Sure, we're goin' to be comfortable," Freegift uttered, glancing around as they ate. "The food is mighty warmin'—what you call the seasonin'? Pepper, ain't it, same as we got, above? Yes."

"Did you hear what they call that other buildin', where we were took first?" asked Jake Carter, of Stub.

"The Palace of the Governors, the soldiers said."

"Palace!" Jake snorted. "It's more like the keep of a bomb-proof fort. I've dreamed of palaces, but never such a one. There's nothin' for a governor to be so high and uppish about."