The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 3 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

454 THE ARGOSY, master or for man. The burning of the castle of La Santa Cruz, the coming of the phantom horsemen, gave food to every tongue. Men gathered in little groups to discuss the thing in hushed whispers; the women, half dressed and with disheveled hair, wrung their hands and prayed to the saints. But none had acoherent story ; none would speak of him whose hand had kindled the beacon, and whose voice had commanded the horsemen of the night. In among this chattering, half naked throng Giralda forced her pony. Busy as the landlord was with his flasks of wine—for he had a shrewd eye to the opportunities of the night—his work ceased as soon as he observed us: and I could not fail to mark the deference with which he treated my little companion, and the haste he showed to serve. ‘“This way, senorita—this way, excellency ; you will find the horses sad- dled and bitted. Dzos/ what a night to live! What sights in the hills!” There was a very cunning look in his eyes when he turned to us in the privacy of the garden behind the inn—a look of one who would say, ‘‘ We are not as these others, we who know.’’ Giralda ignored him; but I said in my best Spanish : ‘The night is well enough, my friend ; tomorrow may not be so pleasant. ° You will be having the hussars from Zaragoza here by and by.” “They will come for the ashes,’’ he chuckled; ‘‘ they will come to say masses for the dead, excellency. The hussars of Zaragoza! ‘There must be many of those fellows to hunt down him we know. Was it not yesterday that the Count of Jaca refused to come in? ‘Tonight his house is a lamp in the mountains. There will be many lamps yet, senor, before the water is in the rivers again.’’ His loquacity began to run away with him, but Giralda whispered some- thing in his ear; and at that he hurried to the stables with our jaded horses and led others into the garden. On our part, we sat only to drink a flask of wine and eat a dish of fowl, and then were in the saddle again. No reckon- _ ing was paid, nor was any demanded. With alow bow anda courtly ‘‘ At your feet, senorita,’’ the vexfero took his leave of us. And so fresh were our horses, and so willing, that the sun was hardly above the mountains when we sighted the village of Torla, and I knew that the work of the night was almost done. It was a glorious morning of summer, fresh with caressing winds and music of the birds. We rode in the heart of the mountains, through a mighty forest which had outworn kings and dynasties and the glory of Spain. A thousand changing lights flashed upon the higher peaks about us; the pin- nacles of snow were so many glittering spires of crystal and epee and amethyst. Ever and anon we passed some rushing torrent whose note was a rolling harmony of icy waters tumbling and foaming in channels of stone. The grass which our horses trod gave ripe greens to the eye; the rustling leaves above were as fans held by the hands of elves. Weary as I was, I hada joy of the new day which no sense of peril yet to be encountered, no memory of the night, could efface. ‘The world awaken- ing gave me a new regard for the little guide, come to me so strangely in a. ECOmicbooks (E(0)