"It is from the grapes of Puerto de Santa Maria, like those of Tribujena, as the Señor Caballero will perceive; they have a peculiar flavour--sharp, is it not?" "Yes, but as I said before, not unpleasant," continued I, placing my pistols on the table, and availing myself of an opportunity to pour the whole of my bumper back into the bota, and this I achieved unseen. Some grounds which remained at the bottom of the crystal glass assured me that the wine was drugged. "I have a pigskin full of wine from the grapes of Don Carlos, or rather I should say of my Lord the Marquis de Santa Cruz, who now owns the vineyard; and if your grace----" "Many thanks," said I, pouring out a second bumper, so that the wine frothed in the glass; "but be assured I shall content myself with this most excellent bottle of Xeres," and taking another opportunity, while the patrona was telling her beads near the fire, and the worthy patron was below pretending to groom my horse--but no doubt to appraise its furniture which he expected to possess before morning--I repeated the manoeuvre, and poured the wine back into its leathern receptacle; thus my deluded entertainers were led to believe that I had taken enough to drug a regiment of Asturians. I scrutinised my hostess; she was a swarthy and dark-skinned Portuguese; her hair, which was coarse and thick as the mane of a steed, she had knotted in a coronet round her head, and over this she wore a yellow shawl. Her features were square, massive, and repulsive; and her arms and legs, which her scanty garments fully displayed, were disgustingly powerful and muscular. "Are you not somewhat lonely here, señora?" I asked, when her orisons were over. "Yes; but then we are never disturbed. Once, indeed, some drunken contrabandistas, riding to Gibraltar, made a noise at our door; but my husband shot one with his escopeta, the rest fled, and we have never been molested since. But erelong the new railway from Lisbon to Abrantes will change everything--for so the priests predict." "You talk of this little shooting affair with delightful coolness," said I, "and just as if that devil of a contrabandista had been a crow. Ah, and so he was shot?" "Yes, and buried about a mile beyond this," replied the woman, over whose dark eyes there passed a savage gleam; "perhaps, caballero, you observed the cross as you came along?" "You forget that I came this morning from Montemor o Novo, where I wish I had stayed with all my heart." "Ah, our caza is a very poor one, señor," growled the host, with a glance at my glass and another at the bota: "but none ever complain of it after they leave us." "I believe you, my lad," said I, with a glance at the cuchillo in his sash; madre mia! it was at least twelve inches long in the blade. He detected my expression and said,--