and withal as handsome, a race of men as any on earth.

Before long all habitations were left behind, and the horses climbed
from rock to rock like cats. There was no suggestion of pathway or
landmark, and Concepcion paused once or twice to take his bearings.
It was about two in the afternoon when, after descending the bed of
a stream long since dried up, Concepcion called a halt, and proposed
to rest the horses while he dined. As on the previous day, the
guide's manner was that of a gentleman, conferring a high honour
with becoming modesty when he sat down beside Conyngham and untied
his small sack of provisions. These consisted of dried figs and
bread, which he offered to his companion before beginning to eat.
Conyngham shared his own stock of food with his guide, and
subsequently smoked a cigarette which that gentleman offered him.
They were thus pleasantly engaged when a man appeared on the rocks
above them in a manner and with a haste that spoke but ill of his
honesty. The guide looked up knife in hand, and made answer to a
gesture of the arm with his own hand upraised.

'Who is this?' said Conyngham. 'Some friend of yours? Tell him to
keep his distance, for I don't care for his appearance.'

'He is no friend of mine, Excellency. But the man is, I dare say,
honest enough. In these mountains it is only of the Guardia Civil
that one must beware. They have ever the finger on the trigger and
shoot without warning.'

'Nevertheless,' said the Englishman, now thoroughly on the alert,
'let him state his business at a respectable distance. Ah! he has a
comrade and two mules.'