The woman and the donkey were now upon the plain, and for some time were concealed from us by the copse and brushwood which intervened. They were not long, however, in making their appearance at the distance of about a hundred yards. The donkey was a beautiful creature of a silver grey, and came frisking along, swinging her tail, and moving her feet so quick that they scarcely seemed to touch the ground. The animal no sooner perceived us than she stopped short, turned round, and attempted to escape by the way she had come; her rider, however, detained her, whereupon the donkey kicked violently, and would probably have flung the former, had she not sprung nimbly to the ground. The form of the woman was entirely concealed by the large wrapping man’s cloak which she wore. I ran to assist her, when she turned her face full upon me, and I instantly recognized the sharp, clever features of Antonia, whom I had seen at Badajoz, the daughter of my guide. She said nothing to me, but advancing to her father, addressed something to him in a low voice, which I did not hear. He started back, and vociferated “All!” “Yes,” said she in a louder tone, probably repeating the words which I had not caught before, “All are captured.” The gypsy remained for some time like one astounded, and, unwilling to listen to their discourse, which I imagined might relate to business of Egypt, I walked away amidst the thickets. I was absent for some time, but could occasionally hear passionate expressions and oaths. In about half an hour I returned; they had left the road, but I found them behind the broom clump, where the animals stood. Both were seated on the ground. The features of the gypsy were peculiarly dark and grim; he held his unsheathed knife in his hand, which he would occasionally plunge into the earth, exclaiming, “All! All!” “Brother,” said he at last, “I can go no farther with you; the business which carried me to _Castumba_ is settled. You must now travel by yourself and trust to your _baji_.” “I trust in _Undevel_,” I replied, “who wrote my fortune long ago. But how am I to journey? I have no horse, for you doubtless want your own.” The gypsy appeared to reflect. “I want the horse, it is true, brother,” he said, “and likewise the _macho_; but you shall not go _en pindré_; {143} you shall purchase the _burra_ of Antonia, which I presented her when I sent her upon this expedition.” “The _burra_,” I replied, “appears both savage and vicious.” “She is both, brother, and on that account I bought her; a savage and vicious beast has generally four excellent legs. You are a _Caló_, brother, and can manage her; you shall therefore purchase the savage _burra_, giving my daughter Antonia a _baria_ of gold. If you think fit, you can sell the beast at Talavera or Madrid, for Estremenian _bestis_ are highly considered in _Castumba_.” In less than an hour I was on the other side of the pass, mounted on the savage _burra_. CHAPTER XI.