st of robbers and
contrabandistas. At the venta in Atajate, they urged us to take a guard,
but my valiant Jose declared that he had never taken one, and yet was
never robbed; so I trusted to his good luck. The weather, however, was our
best protection. In such a driving rain, we could bid defiance to the
flint locks of their escopettes, if, indeed, any could be found, so fond
of their trade, as to ply it in a storm

"Wherein the cub-drawn bear would crouch,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their furs dry."

Nevertheless, I noticed that each of the few convoys of laden mules which
we met, had one or more of the _guardia cicia_ accompanying it. Besides
these, the only persons abroad were some wild-looking individuals, armed
to the teeth, and muffled in long cloaks, towards whom, as they passed,
Jose would give his head a slight toss, and whisper to me: "more
contrabandistas."

We were soon in a condition to defy the weather. The rain beat furiously
in our faces, especially when threading the wind-blown passes between the
higher peaks. I raised my umbrella as a defence, but the first blast
snapped it in twain. The mountain-sides were veined with rills, roaring
downward into the hollows, and smaller rills soon began to trickle down my
own sides. During the last part of our way, the path was notched along
precipitous steeps, where the storm was so thick that we could see nothing
either above or below. It was like riding along the outer edge of the
world, When once you are thoroughly wet, it is a great satisfaction to
know that you can be no wetter; and so Jose and I went forward in the best
possible humor, finding so much diversion in our plight that the dreary
leagues were considerably shortened.

At the venta of Gaucin, where we stopped, the people received us kindly.
The house consisted of one room--stable, kitchen, and dining-room all in
one. There was a small apartment in a windy loft, where a bed (much too
short) was prepared for me. A fire of dry heather was made in the wide
fire-place, and the ruddy flames, with a change of clothing and a draught
of the amber vintage of Estepona, soon thawed out the chill of the
journey. But I received news which caused me a great deal of anxiety. The
River Guadiaro was so high that nobody could cross, and two forlorn
muleteers had been waiting eight days at the inn, for the waters to
subside. Augmented by the rain which had fallen, and which seemed to
increase as