"The saints help you to find your way in the dark, then!" "Oh! I shall find it. The road is direct, you know, and my mule will not wander." He set off after an hour’s rest and rode on in increasing darkness. What the landlord had said about brigands gave him little concern. For one thing, the mule trod almost silently on the sodden road, and he had removed the bell from its neck; for another, he had avoided the highway, and did not suppose that much booty was ever to be obtained on the by-roads; and lastly, he trusted to his wits, his mule, and his pistol. As he rode on, the air grew colder and the sky darker; there was no moon, and a thickening haze lay over the fields to right and left of the road. It was impossible to proceed at more than a walking pace, except at risk of breaking the mule’s knees in a rut or ditch. To divert his thoughts from the cold and the unpleasantness of his journey, he ran over in his mind the events of the last few days. He dwelt particularly on the strange message he had received from Don Fernan Alvarez. "Palafox the man, Palafox the name!"—what could it mean? How did it concern his old playmate Juanita, whom he remembered, a little black-eyed child, clambering on his father’s knee, and listening with her finger in her mouth to the stories told her by Mr. Lumsden, so merry and frank compared with her stiff, stately, solemn father. Palafox!—he was a young general, with a brilliant reputation; Jack had heard Colonel Beckwith give high praise to his strenuous defence of Saragossa against Verdier; but what likelihood was there that the chances of the campaign would give Jack an opportunity of meeting him! Suppose he did meet him, what— "Buenas noches, caballero!" said a thick guttural voice at his mule’s head, breaking into his meditation, and giving him a momentary shock. "Buenas noches, hombre!" he replied. The mule had stopped short. Jack saw dimly, right in front of him, a thick-set figure clad in a heavy cloak, his head covered with a pointed large-brimmed hat, reminding the rider of pictures he had seen of Italian brigands. "O Señor caballero," said the man, "will you have the charity to tell a poor wayfarer the time?" Jack was on the point of pulling out his big hunting-watch, but it struck him suddenly that it was advisable to be on his guard until he was sure of his man. "Somewhere about seven o’clock, I fancy," he said courteously. "You are right in my way, my friend." "Sí, caballero, but it is my way as well as yours." "It is wide enough for both of us," rejoined Jack with a smile; "and as I have some miles to ride, I shall be obliged to you if you’ll stand away and let me get on." The man did not budge, but brought his left hand from beneath his cloak and seized the off rein. "Come, my friend, don’t delay me. ’Tis a cold night, and the sooner I reach my journey’s end the better I shall be pleased."