jewels from throbbing throats, and a few
unknown birds of brilliant red and yellow, like drifting flower-petals.
But whether these birds carried the news, or whether it blew over the
country with the scented wind, certain it is that an audience collected to
gaze upon us, as clouds boil up over a clear horizon.

It was not an intrusive crowd that came; neither did they approach
offensively near, or stare with vulgar curiosity. It's component
members--three or four handsome young mule-drivers, princely in shabbiness;
an elderly tiller of the soil, with the eyes and profile of a half-tamed
hawk; an old woman and a young girl madonna-like in their hooded cloaks,
as they sat their patient donkeys; and a couple of shy children with the
eyes of startled deer--hovered, paused, and ruminated, ready to take
flight, like wild creatures of the forest, at a rude look or chaffing
word.

But they got no rude looks or chaffing words from us, though we dared not
smile too invitingly, lest they misunderstand, and flee from us, offended.
We bowed gravely; they gravely bowed in return. Then, following a hurried
whisper of advice from the tactful Cherub, we continued our meal. But
presently, sandwich in hand, he strolled towards the scattered group,
mingled with it, and murmured. What he murmured, we in the car and round
it could not hear; but the chill uncertainty on those dark faces
brightened into sympathetic amusement.

"He's telling them about ourselves and the automobile," chuckled
Pilarcita. "Oh, I know him! He's probably making up nonsense about the car
and its workings. In another minute they'll be his slaves, and friends of
us all."

As she whispered, the plump figure sauntered back. "I think that now it's
safe to offer them a share of our food," said he, in the manner of one who
imparts a delicious secret. "They are dying for some; but they'll refuse
unless we go about it in the right way, for they're as proud as we are."

Pilar was not allowed to move, because, in Spain, women are to be
worshipped from afar, and must not mingle with strangers. But she handed
plates of the dainties supplied by Dona Rosita, to Dick and me, and thus
laden we wandered towards our audience.

"Offer something first to the road-mender's family," suggested the Cherub,
and we obeyed. "Probably you are not hungry," was his preface. "Why should
you be, when you have plenty of food as good as ours, maybe better? But
here are things from Madrid. It may