Sierra de Cabra.

At the mouth of the gorge my horse neighed, and another horse that I did
not see answered immediately. A hundred steps farther, and the gorge,
suddenly widening, revealed a sort of natural circus, shaded by the
cliffs which surrounded it. It was impossible to light upon a place
which promised a pleasanter halt to the traveller.

But the honour of discovering this beautiful spot did not belong to me.
A man was resting there already, and it my entrance, he had risen and
approached his horse. He was a young fellow of medium height, but robust
appearance, with a gloomy and haughty air. In one hand he held his
horse's halter, in the other a brass blunderbuss. The fierce air of the
man somewhat surprised me, but not having seen any robbers I no longer
believed in them. My guide Antonio, however, who came up behind me,
showed evident signs of terror, and drew near very much against his
will.

I stretched myself on the grass, drew out my cigar-case, and asked the
man with the blunderbuss if he had a tinder-box on him. The unknown,
without speaking, produced his tinder-box, and hastened to strike a
light for me. In return I gave him one of my best Havanas, for which he
thanked me with an inclination of the head.

In Spain a cigar given and received establishes relations of
hospitality, like the sharing of bread and salt in the East. My unknown
now proved more talkative than I had expected. He seemed half famished,
and devoured some slices of excellent ham, which I had put in my guide's
knapsack, wolfishly. When I mentioned I was going to the Venta del
Cuervo for the night he offered to accompany me, and I accepted
willingly.

As we rode along Antonio endeavoured to attract my attention by
mysterious signs, but I took no notice. Doubtless my companion was a
smuggler, or a robber. What did it matter to me? I knew I had nothing to
fear from a man who had eaten and smoked with me.

We arrived at the venta, which was one of the most wretched I had yet
come across. An old woman opened the door, and on seeing my companion,
exclaimed, "Ah, Senor Don Jose!"

Don Jose frowned and raised his hand, and the old woman was silent at
once.

The supper was better than I expected, and after supper Don Jose played
the mandoline and sang some melancholy songs. My guide decided to pass
the night in the stable, but Don Jose and I stretched ourselves on mule
cloths on the floor.

Very disagreeable itchings snatched me fro