The road was rocky and uneven, winding among the hills, which showed bare and ghostly in the increasing moonlight. After riding on for some six or seven miles, wondering where he was going and how long his horse would hold out, he was passing by the brink of a ravine overhung by a dark wall of rock, when in a narrow cleft to the right he fancied he saw a glimmer of artificial light. At once dismounting, he led his horse towards it, carefully picking his way over the rough ground. At the end of the narrow defile he came to a venta of rough-hewn stone, with large casements, all of which were closed with wooden shutters. The light he had seen proceeded from a round knot-hole in the shutter of one of the rooms on the ground-floor. The hole was higher than his head. Remounting, he drew his horse sideways to the house, and, stooping, put his eye to the peep-hole. He saw a spacious room, part kitchen, part dining-room, and part dormitory, to judge from the dirty mattresses spread here and there on the floor. In the centre of the wall to the right was an immense chimney-piece, where a pile of pine-logs were crackling and blazing merrily. Over the fire two huge black kettles were suspended, and in front a long iron spit, garnished with fowls and goats’-flesh, was turned by a miserable-looking dog, which, perched against the wall in a wooden barrel, must have suffered both from the heat and from the tread-mill work it was forced to do. Opposite the fire, at a more comfortable distance, Jack saw a large table, around which, seated on benches, crippled chairs, and upturned casks, a score or more of men were beguiling the time, till supper should be ready, by frequent applications to the wine-jug. A glance at their dress was sufficient to inform Jack of their condition. They wore short tight-fitting jackets, low-crowned black hats with the brim looped up on one side, breeches fastened at the knee with coloured ribbons, and long leather gaiters. From pegs on the wall hung long brown cloaks, and in the corners lay heaps of sabres, pistols, and long carbines. "Guerrilleros, for a ducat!" said Jack to himself, "and a desperate set. They have not even troubled to post a sentry. I’m afraid they’ll have to be my bed-fellows to-night, at any rate." Without hesitation he rapped smartly on the door with the butt of a pistol. There was a sound of movement within, heavy steps approached the door, and a gruff voice demanded: "Quien vive?" "España!" said Jack, giving the usual countersign, then by a happy inspiration adding: "Amigo de Antonio el valiente guerrillero." With an exclamation of delight the man inside drew the bolts and threw open the door. The light from a lamp streamed out, and Jack, bending his head, asked whether he could be put up at the inn for the night.