of suspicion.

The sole reply was a stare of stupid surprise. The officer repeated the
question.

"From Berriozar," answered the man, naming a village at a greater
distance from Pampeluna than the one to which old Samaniego claimed to
belong. And then, as if he supposed the officer inclined to become a
customer, he reached over to his pannier and took out a basket of figs.

"Fine figs, your worship," said he, mixing execrably bad Spanish with
Basque words. "_Muy barato_. You shall have them very cheap."

When the man mentioned his place of abode, two or three of the women
exchanged a quick glance of surprise; but this escaped the notice of the
officer, who now looked hard in the peasant's face, which preserved its
former expression of immovable and sleepy stupidity.

"Dismount," said the ensign.

The man pointed to his bandaged ankle; but on a repetition of the order
he obeyed, with a grimace of pain, and then stood on one leg, supporting
himself against the mule.

"I shall detain this fellow," said the officer, after a moment's pause.
"Take him into the guard-room."

Just then a respectable-looking, elderly citizen, on his return
apparently from a stroll outside the fortifications, walked past on his
way into the town. On perceiving the young officer, he stopped and shook
hands with him.

"Welcome to Pampeluna, Don Rafael!" he exclaimed. "Your regiment I knew
was here, but could not believe that you had come with it, since I had
never before known you to neglect your old friends."

"No fault of mine, Senor Lopez," replied the officer. "Three days here,
and not a moment's rest from guards and fatigue duty."

"Well, don't forget us; Ignacia and Dolores look for you. Ah, Blas! you
here? How's your leg, poor Blas? Did you bring the birds I ordered?"

These questions were addressed to the lame peasant, who replied by a
grin of recognition; and an assurance that the birds in question had
been duly delivered to his worship's servant.

"Very good," said Lopez. "Good morning, Don Rafael."

The young officer stopped him.

"You know this man, then, Senor Lopez?" inquired the ensign.

"Know him? as I know you. Our poultry-man; and if you will sup with us
to-night, when you come off guard, you shall eat a fowl of his
fattening."

"With pleasure," replied the ensign. "You may go," he added, turning to
the peasant. "Let these people pass, sergeant. May I be shot, Don
Basilio, if I didn't mean to detain your wort