“Never mind the butter this morning, Nicolas,” spoke up Tom, at the same time kicking Harry gently under the table.

“Can I serve you further, now, caballeros” inquired Nicolas, with great respect, “or shall I bring you the remainder of your breakfast?”

“Bring us the rest of the breakfast, by all means,” begged Harry, and the servant left them.

“Why did you tell him not to mind the butter?” grunted Hazelton.

“Because,” Tom answered, “it struck me that, in Mexico, it may not be customary to serve butter in the morning.”

Harry took a bite of one of the rolls, finding it to be soft, flaky and delicious.  Then he removed another linen covering from the pot and started to pour the chocolate.  That beverage did not come as freely as he had expected.

“What ails the stuff?” grunted Hazelton.  “This isn’t the first of April.”

Then Harry removed the lid from the pot, glancing inside, next he picked up a spoon and stirred the contents of the pot.

“I wish Nicolas were here,” said Hazelton.

“Why?” Tom wanted to know.

“I’m bothered about what’s etiquette in Mexico.  I don’t know whether it’s right to eat this stuff with a knife, or whether we’re expected to spread the stuff on the rolls.”

“It is pretty thick stuff,” Tom agreed, after taking a look.  “But let me have the pot and the spoon.  I think I can manage it.”

After some work Tom succeeded in reducing the chocolate to a consistency that admitted of pouring, though very slowly.

“It took you almost three minutes to pour two cups,” said Harry, returning his watch to his pocket.  “Come on, now!  We’ve got to make up for lost time.  What will Don Luis think of us?  And yet it is his household arrangements that are keeping us away from our work.”

Chocolate and rolls were soon disposed of.  Then the two engineers sat back, wondering whether Nicolas had deserted them.  Finally, both rose and walked to stretch their legs.

“No restaurant in New York has anything on this place for slow-march service!” growled Hazelton.

As all things must come at last, so did Nicolas.  He carried a tray and was followed by a second servant, bringing another.

The tortillas proved to be, as Harry put it, “a cross between a biscuit and flapjack.”  The frijoles were just plain boiled beans, which had evidently been cooked on some other day, and were now mushy.  But it was a very solid meal that now lay before them, and the young engineers ate heartily.

“Will the caballeros have some more chocolate?” suggested Nicolas.

“Not now,” said Hazelton.  “But you might order some for to-morrow’s breakfast, and then we shan’t have to wait for so long next time.”

The additional servant had gone, noiselessly, but Nicolas hovered about, silently.

At last the meal was finished.  Tom had chewed his food thoroughly, what he had eaten of it, but Harry, in his hunger, had eaten hurriedly.