Early in the morning they were astir.
"What shall we wear, Tom ?" inquired Hazelton, going toward his trunks.
"Eh ?" "I wonder what people wear in Mexico," Harry continued.

"I don't want to make any mistake in my clothing." "The best clothing for engineers about to go down into a mine will be top-boots, khaki trousers and flannel shirts." "But will that be suitable to go to breakfast in ?" Harry asked.
"Will it be showing sufficient courtesy to our host?
And suppose the daughter should be at table ?" "That's so," Reade nodded.

"I am sorry that we didn't fish for points last evening." A knock came at the door.
"Aqui!" (here) Tom answered.
The door opened slowly.

A man servant of perhaps twenty-five years, attired in clean white clothes, but bare-footed, stood in the doorway, bowing very low.
"_Buenos dias_, _caballeros_!" (good morning, gentlemen) was his greeting.
Tom invited him to enter.
"_Caballeros_," announced the _peon_, "I am your servant, your slave, your dog! My name is Nicolas." "How do you do, Nicolas," responded Tom, holding out his hand, which the Mexican appeared too dazed, or too respectful to take.
"We may find a servant useful.

But we never kept slaves, and we wouldn't dream of calling any man a dog." "I am your dog, _caballeros_," Nicolas asserted.