20 Unexplored Spain 



beasts, or any others that may come in, barely separated by a 

 thatched partition that is neither noise-proof nor scent-proof. 

 We can call instances to mind when even that small luxury was 

 lacking, and all, human and other, shared alike. There are no 

 windows — merely wooden hatches. If shut, both light and air 

 are excluded ; if open, hens, dogs, and cats will enter with the 

 dawn — the former to finish what remains of supper. The cats 

 will at least dis23erse the regiment of rats which, during the night, 

 have scurried across your sleeping form. 



Here we relate, as a specific example, a night we spent this 

 last spring in northern Estremadura :- — 



Owing to a miscalculation of distance, it was an hour after 





^' --^y^^^ 



A VILLAGE POSADA 



sundown ere we reached our destination, a lonely hamlet among 

 the hills. Our good little Galician ponies were dead-beat, for we 

 had been in the saddle since 5 a.m., and it was past eight ere we 

 toiled up that last steep, rock-terraced slope. We were a party 

 of three, with a local guide and our own Sancho Panza — faithful 

 companion, friend, and servant of many years' standing. At a 

 dilapidated hovel, the last in the village and perched on a crag, 

 we drew rein, and after repeated knocks the door was opened by 

 a girl — she had set down a five-year-old child among the donkeys 

 while she drew the bolt, the ground-floor being (as usual) a stable. 

 To our inquiry as to food — and the hunger of the lost was upon 

 us — our hostess merely shrugged her shoulders, and with an 

 expressive gesture of open hands, answered "Nada" — nothing! 

 Sancho, however, was equal to the occasion. Within two minutes, 



