CHAPTER XVIII 



Malaga, March 20. 

 Upon the road again, and, after our little oasis of decent 

 living in Gibraltar and Africa, restored to the romantic 

 luxury of Spanish hunger and Spanish fleas. Harry woke 

 me early on Tuesday morning, and made me get up, though 

 I murmured in my sleep about the impossibility of getting 

 away while our linen remained in the hands of the faithless 

 lavandera. However, when I was fairly awake and up, I 

 joined him in caramhaing severely at the chamber-maid. 

 Such, indeed, was the force of our language, that it brought 

 the shirts and stockings home wringing wet, and of course 

 we had to send them back. While they were being ironed 

 we ate our breakfasts, and had the last touch put to 

 our passports, so that by the time our shifts returned, we 

 were prepared to stuiF them into the alforjas and be off. 



Leading our ponies out of the stables, where they had 

 been nearly a fortnight, we found them so stiff that they 

 could hardly stir, and I actually thought mine had had his 

 back broken by some unfair usage, and accordingly began to 

 revile the stable-keeper — having my suspicions of him the 

 more because he had wanted to buy our ponies ; and now I 

 thought he had made them drunk to prevent their going 

 away, for they staggered about, and seemed, moreover, as 

 much excited in their minds as they were infirm upon their 

 legs. 



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