On a fair and beautiful night in summer, when the freshness of the
evening breeze had tempered the heat of day, the worthy Alcayde sallied
forth, with nine of his cavaliers, to patrol the neighborhood, and
seek adventures. They rode quietly and cautiously, lest they should be
overheard by Moorish scout or traveller; and kept along ravines and
hollow ways, lest they should be betrayed by the glittering of the full
moon upon their armor. Coming to where the road divided, the Alcayde
directed five of his cavaliers to take one of the branches, while he,
with the remaining four, would take the other. Should either party be in
danger, the blast of a horn was to be the signal to bring their comrades
to their aid.

The party of five had not proceeded far, when, in passing through a
defile, overhung with trees, they heard the voice of a man, singing.
They immediately concealed themselves in a grove, on the brow of a
declivity, up which the stranger would have to ascend. The moonlight,
which left the grove in deep shadow, lit up the whole person of the
wayfarer, as he advanced, and enabled them to distinguish his dress and
appearance with perfect accuracy. He was a Moorish cavalier, and his
noble demeanor, graceful carriage, and splendid attire showed him to
be of lofty rank. He was superbly mounted, on a dapple-gray steed, of
powerful frame, and generous spirit, and magnificently caparisoned.
His dress was a marlota, or tunic, and an Albernoz of crimson damask,
fringed with gold. His Tunisian turban, of many folds, was of silk and
cotton, striped, and bordered with golden fringe. At his girdle hung a
scimitar of Damascus steel, with loops and tassels of silk and gold. On
his left arm he bore an ample target, and his right hand grasped a long
double-pointed lance. Thus equipped, he sat negligently on his steed, as
one who dreamed of no danger, gazing on the moon, and singing, with a
sweet and manly voice, a Moorish love ditty.