'Tis but poor fare, but the _chili vinagre_ will be sure to strengthen you.

We who dwell in the desert know that." Her words proved true, for after swallowing a few morsels of the bread she has besprinkled, the famished man feels as if some restorative medicine had been administered to him.
"Do you think you are able to ride ?" she asks.
"I can walk--though, perhaps, not very far." "If you can ride there is no need for your walking.

You can mount my mare; I shall go afoot.

It is not very far--only six miles." "But," protests he, "I must not leave this spot." "Indeed!" she exclaims, turning upon her _protege_ a look of surprise.
"For what reason, senor?
To stay here would be to perish.

You have no companions to care for you ?" "I have companions--at least, one.