“It is, brother,” said he, “but I would sooner be abroad in such a night, and in such places, than in the estaripel of Trujillo.” We wandered at least a league farther, and appeared now to be near a wood, for I could occasionally distinguish the trunks of immense trees. Suddenly Antonio stopped his mule; “Look, brother,” said he, “to the left, and tell me if you do not see a light; your eyes are sharper than mine.” I did as he commanded me. At first I could see nothing, but moving a little farther on I plainly saw a large light at some distance, seemingly amongst the trees. “Yonder cannot be a lamp or candle,” said I; “it is more like the blaze of a fire.” “Very likely,” said Antonio. “There are no queres (_houses_) in this place; it is doubtless a fire made by durotunes (_shepherds_); let us go and join them, for, as you say, it is doleful work wandering about at night amidst rain and mire.” We dismounted and entered what I now saw was a forest, leading the animals cautiously amongst the trees and brushwood. In about five minutes we reached a small open space, at the farther side of which, at the foot of a large cork tree, a fire was burning, and by it stood or sat two or three figures; they had heard our approach, and one of them now exclaimed Quien Vive? “I know that voice,” said Antonio, and leaving the horse with me, rapidly advanced towards the fire: presently I heard an Ola! and a laugh, and soon the voice of Antonio summoned me to advance. On reaching the fire I found two dark lads, and a still darker woman of about forty; the latter seated on what appeared to be horse or mule furniture. I likewise saw a horse and two donkeys tethered to the neighbouring trees. It was in fact a Gypsy bivouac. . . . “Come forward, brother, and show yourself,” said Antonio to me; “you are amongst friends; these are of the Errate, the very people whom I expected to find at Trujillo, and in whose house we should have slept.” “And what,” said I, “could have induced them to leave their house in Trujillo and come into this dark forest in the midst of wind and rain, to pass the night?” “They come on business of Egypt, brother, doubtless,” replied Antonio; “and that business is none of ours, Calla boca! It is lucky we have found them here, else we should have had no supper, and our horses no corn.” “My ro is prisoner at the village yonder,” said the woman, pointing with her hand in a particular direction; “he is prisoner yonder for choring a mailla (_stealing a donkey_); we are come to see what we can do in his behalf; and where can we lodge better than in this forest, where there is nothing to pay? It is not the first time, I trow, that Caloré have slept at the root of a tree.”