And indeed a second man of equally unprepossessing exterior now
appeared from behind a great rock leading a couple of heavily laden
mules.

Concepcion and the first traveller, who was now within a dozen
yards, were already exchanging words in a patois not unlike the
Limousin dialect, of which Conyngham understood nothing.

'Stop where you are,' shouted the Englishman in Spanish, 'or else I
shoot you! If there is anything wrong, Senor Vara,' he added to the
guide, 'I shoot you first, understand that.'

'He says,' answered Concepcion with dignity, 'that they are honest
traders on the road to Ronda, and would be glad of our company. His
Excellency is at liberty to shoot if he is so disposed.'

Conyngham laughed.

'No,' he answered, 'I am not anxious to kill any man, but each must
take care of himself in these times.'

'Not against an honest smuggler.'

'Are these smugglers?'

'They speak as such. I know them no more than does his Excellency.'

The second new-comer was now within hail, and began at once to speak
in Spanish. The tale he told was similar in every way to that