Lewis traveled toward the ancient town of Oeiras. He had cast about in
his mind for some means of livelihood and had decided to become a
goatskin-buyer. He was hoping to come to an arrangement with some
merchant in Oeiras.

One morning as he jogged along, his eyes on the ground, his thoughts far
away, he heard the patter of many hoofs on the hard clay trail. A
pack-train was coming toward him. At its head rode a guide. The guide
stopped upon meeting Lewis, and immediately every mule behind him
stopped, too.

"The blessing of God be upon you, friend!" he drawled. "Whence do you
come and whither do you go?"

"God's blessing be praised," answered Lewis. "I come from the hills. I
go to Oeiras."

"To Oeiras? We come thence. It is a long road, Oeiras."

"I go to seek a merchant who will start me as a goat-skin-buyer. Do you
know of any such?"

"A goatskin-buyer? Friend, for almost every goat there is a
goatskin-buyer. My brother is one, my father-in-law another. I myself
shall become one after this trip is over. You would do well to choose
some other occupation."

Lewis did not smile at the man's guile, though it had not escaped him.