Clarence King 



Chocolate is the straw at which 

 the drowning traveler catches in the 

 wide ocean of Spanish starvation. Its 

 spicy aroma, with that of a cigarette, 

 announced the coming of the old 

 posadera. 



I reluctantly awakened Salazar, and 

 we began the day by each pouring 

 water from an earthen jar for the 

 other's ablutions. From a leathern 

 wallet my companion produced a few 

 dry, crumbled little cakes, and my 

 ulster pocket yielded up a bottle of 

 olives I had brought from Seville. 

 The woman squatted by us and 

 smoked. 



While waiting for his boiling bev- 

 erage to cool, Salazar addressed our 

 hostess. " This American gentleman 

 has in his own country a friend of 

 whom he is exceedingly fond, a certain 

 Don Horacio, who, it seems, is in the 

 habit of reading the adventures of 

 Don Quixote, which you very well 



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