The Rebel Chief by Gustave Aimard

The first beams of day were beginning to tinge the sky with opaline tints at the moment when the two horsemen reached the garita of San Antonio. For some time past they had checked the rapid pace of their steeds, had taken off their masks, and re-established such order as they could in their clothes, which had been dirtied and damaged by the numerous incidents of their night's ride. At some paces from the garita they mixed themselves up with the groups of Indians proceeding to market, so that it was easy for them to enter the city unnoticed. Don Jaime proceeded straight to the house he inhabited in the calle de San Francisco, near the Plaza Mayor.

On reaching home, he dismissed López, who was literally falling asleep. In spite of the copious draughts which he had taken while his master was at the Palo Quemado, he gave him leave for the whole day, merely appointing a meeting with him the same evening, and then withdrew to his bedroom. This room was a real Spartan abode, the furniture, reduced to its simplest expression, only consisted of a wooden frame, covered with a cow hide, which served as a bed, an old saddle forming the pillow, and a black bearskin the coverlet; a table loaded with papers, and a few books, a stool, a trunk containing his clothes, and a rack filled with weapons of every description, knives, pistols, sabres, swords, daggers, machetes, guns, carbines, rifles, and revolves, completed with the horse trappings suspended from the walls, this singular furniture, to which we must add a washstand, placed behind a _sarape_ hung up as a curtain in a corner of the room.