ning to assemble in groups of twos
and threes and stare after us. Human nature is curious and inquisitive
all the world over.

But the charm and attraction of the place are the ruins that crown the
heights; walls and towers now crumbling and desolate, witnessing to the
strength and power of Saguntum in ages gone by. It was founded nearly
1400 years before the Christian era by the Greeks of Zante, when the
Phoenicians were still monarchs of the land. Why they permitted the
Greeks to erect this stronghold does not appear. When a wealthy frontier
town allied to Rome, it was attacked by Hannibal. The defence was brave,
determined and prolonged; but Rome would not come to the rescue, and the
town perished amidst frightful horrors. This chiefly led to the Second
Punic War, by which Saguntum was revenged and Hannibal and his armies
were routed out of Spain: reverses they never recovered. In time it was
rebuilt by the Romans, and in the course of centuries fell under the
dominion of the Goths and the Moors.

Saguntum--Murviedro, as it is often called--is now a magnificent ruin.
The climb to the castle is long, steep and rugged, and on reaching the
gates we found them closed. There was no guardian to admit us; the ruins
were uninhabited. After our feverish night, a return to the town for
the keys and a second long climb seemed too much of a penance. Yet the
interior must be seen.

Fortune favoured us. We found a man near the gates cutting away the rank
grass and weeds: a strange uncanny creature; terribly hump-backed; with
a pale long-drawn face from which a couple of dark eyes looked out upon
you with a strange inward fire that seemed consuming him. He was almost
a skeleton, as though he and starvation were close companions.

We made known our trouble, offering a substantial bribe if he would go
down and bring up the keys. The man's eyes sparkled. Without hesitation
he laid down his great shears and put on the coat he had placed under
the walls.

"If the keys are to be had by mortal power, senor, I will not return
without them," he said; his voice was shrill with the sharpness of
habitual suffering.

"Go, then, and success attend you. We await you here."

We sat down between the great gates and the ruins of the Roman theatre,
and watched our messenger's long thin legs rapidly flying over the
ground. Then he disappeared behind the houses.

We waited and wondered. Presently he reappeared followed by an old woman
danglin