The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 3 — page 65: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE PHANTOM ARMY. | 449 horse he held that I would sooner be at the side of Giralda, the gipsy, there upon the road to the mountains, than in company of all the saints that Rome has canonized. : CHAPTER VI.—THE PHANTOM ARMY. Ir had been in my mind when we rode out of Zaragoza that I would find an early opportunity by the way to question the gipsy and learn more from her than I had yet learned, either in ILondon or in the Spanish city, of the woman who had sent me to Spain and the man I was to meet there. But we had not ridden a league before it became clear to me that my guide had no intention of thus permitting herself to be questioned, or, indeed, of gratify- ing my curiosity in any way. Even at the beginning of our journey she forged ahead, aided in her intention by as fine a pony as ever I clapped eyes upon; and she made it plain to me from the start that she knew my pur- _ pose, and would have none of it. Beyond that we rode too swiftly to talk. Despite the rough highway and the dust which the wind whirled, our horses were going almost at a gallop from the moment the gate of the city closed behind us until the lights of the little town of Ayerbe came to our view. Nor did she once draw rein until a village clock told us that an hour had passed and that we had numbered some twelve miles as the record of our ride. We entered Ayerbe almost at a walk ; and many a watch dog found tongue at our coming. So hot was the night that the peasants had quitted their houses and lay sleeping upon the grass at the roadside. Far away above the horizon I could see the higher peaks of the frontier mountains, at the foot of which our destination lay. ‘Though I would willingly have changed a word with Giralda, nevertheless my curiosity welcomed her haste, and I rode on glad as a trooper at his first charge. ’‘Ihree months had passed since I had crossed a horse. Love of the old life, the life of the noinad, surged up in my heart irresistibly ; the arid plains we traversed were typical of liberty new found in a land that knew nothing of me or of my misfor- tunes. The past seemed written out forever. The future—I would begin to think of that when a new page was turned. We rode through the hamlet slowly, meeting none but a watchman, who bawled incessantly, ‘‘ Serefio,’’ as though the state of the weather was of great consequence to the sleeping souls in the shuttered houses round about. Here again, as at the gate of Zaragoza, my guide appeared to be on the best of terms with the law in the person of this bawling patrol. His greeting to her was the greeting of a servant to a mistress. ‘‘ T’he Virgin go with you,”’ senorita. Senor, may you remain with God.’’ I threw him a silver piece and left him protesting that all which he had was mine—a present of no great value I make sure. When we had heard the last of him and were out on the high road to France again, I forced my horse to the side of my com- panion and found her not unwilling to let the poor beasts go at their pleasure. : : ‘Well,’ said I, and such a picturesque thing she was that I could not take my eyes off her, ‘‘ is this the way you ride for pleasure ? ’’ ~ Re) Gomichook (E(@)