CHAPTER XIII 



Moron, February 27. 



The reader will easily imagine we did not wake very 

 early next morning. I had sat up till very late writing 

 after a hard day's work. We both awoke suddenly, and 

 found a couple of carabineros standing at the foot of our 

 beds. We started up, thinking ourselves arrested ; but it 

 appeared they had only come to inspect our passports, which 

 were shown, and found satisfactory. Harry handed a paper 

 of clgarillos to them from under his pillow, and they began 

 to smoke. 



There was another tap at the door, and in walked a tall, 

 long-nosed, bushy-whiskered man, with sharp eyes, glancing 

 rather furtively from beneath dark shaggy eyebrows. We 

 soon recognised him by his voice to be the master of the 

 grey horse, who had bespoken a portrait over night. He 

 begged, with a profusion of politeness, to have the pleasure 

 of receiving us at his house, which was entirely at our dis- 

 position, where we might proceed to business. He seemed 

 slightly uneasy in the presence of the soldiers, and as soon 

 as we told him that we should wait upon him after break- 

 fast, he decamped, with a sort of half-slink, half-swagger. 

 When he was gone, one of the soldiers said, — 



" May I be pardoned for my curiosity in inquiring what 

 business your worship may have to transact with that 

 man r 



129 



