Early one morning, before sunrise, I found myself at the house of Antonio; it was a small mean building, situated in a dirty street. The morning was quite dark; the street, however, was partially illumined by a heap of lighted straw, round which two or three men were busily engaged, apparently holding an object over the flames. Presently the gypsy’s door opened, and Antonio made his appearance; and, casting his eye in the direction of the light, exclaimed, “The swine have killed their brother; would that every _Busnó_ was served as yonder hog is. Come in, brother, and we will eat the heart of that hog.” I scarcely understood his words, but following him, he led me into a low room, in which was a _brasero_, or small pan full of lighted charcoal; beside it was a rude table, spread with a coarse linen cloth, upon which was bread and a large pipkin full of a mess which emitted no disagreeable savour. “The heart of the _balichó_ is in that _puchera_,” said Antonio; “eat, brother.” We both sat down and ate—Antonio voraciously. When we had concluded he arose:—“Have you got your _li_?” he demanded. “Here it is,” said I, showing him my passport. “Good,” said he; “you may want it. I want none; my passport is the _bar lachí_. Now for a glass of _repañi_, and then for the road.” We left the room, the door of which he locked, hiding the key beneath a loose brick in a corner of the passage. “Go into the street, brother, whilst I fetch the _caballerias_ from the stable.” I obeyed him. The sun had not yet risen, and the air was piercingly cold; the grey light, however, of dawn enabled me to distinguish objects with tolerable accuracy; I soon heard the clattering of the animals’ feet, and Antonio presently stepped forth, leading the horse by the bridle; the _macho_ followed behind. I looked at the horse, and shrugged my shoulders. As far as I could scan it, it appeared the most uncouth animal I had ever beheld. It was of a spectral white, short in the body, but with remarkably long legs. I observed that it was particularly high in the _cruz_, or withers. “You are looking at the _grasti_,” said Antonio; “it is eighteen years old, but it is the very best in the _Chim del Manró_; I have long had my eye upon it; I bought it for my own use for the affairs of Egypt. Mount, brother, mount, and let us leave the _foros_—the gate is about being opened.” He locked the door, and deposited the key in his _faja_. In less than a quarter of an hour we had left the town behind us. “This does not appear to be a very good horse,” said I to Antonio, as we proceeded over the plain; “it is with difficulty that I can make him move.”