"Ay, the mountainous part of the country,—my own native place. He comes of good family, and we are old acquaintance." "Yet you seem to behave very drily to him: why you have not spoken to him since the corps came up." "I have my reasons. A few words with him last night—I will tell you afterwards," said Ronald in confusion. "Pshaw, Stuart! You should not dishearten a young sub, who has just joined, by this sort of behaviour. Nothing disgusts one who has recently left his home with the service, so much as coldness on the part of those that he considered his friends. I shall see it made up—" "I beg, Macdonald, you will not interfere in this matter," was Ronald’s answer, with a vehemence that surprised his friend. "I am aware how I ought to behave to Mr. Lisle: we must be on distant terms—for the present at least." "You are the best judge, of course," said Macdonald, with some confusion. "I merely meant for the best what I said. I dislike discord among brother officers." "I am aware that your intentions were good,—they always are so, Alister; but change the subject. How did you like Almendralejo?" "Not well: a dull place it is, and the dons are very quarrelsome." "Ay, I remember your letter mentioning two brawls with the inhabitants." "Your servant, Mr. Iverach, and that rogue Mackie, of your own company, were the heroes of one." "I should be glad to hear the story now. My servant has often mentioned it, when I had neither time nor inclination to listen." "There is an old _abogado_ at Almendralejo," answered Macdonald, "a fierce old fellow he is, with bristling moustaches twisted up to his very ears, and eyes like those of a hawk,—the Senor Sancho de los Garcionadas the people there call him for shortness, but he has a name as long as a Welsh pedigree. This lawyer dwells, of course, in one of the best houses in the town, and on him Iverach and Angus Mackie were billeted. He has a daughter, whom I have seen on the Prado, a fine-looking girl, with regular features, Spanish eyes, and Spanish ankles,—quite bewitching, in fact; and although she has not Donna Catalina’s stately and splendid appearance, yet she is plump as a partridge, and rosy, pretty, and merry as can be imagined. Her beauty completely vanquished the heart of Mackie, on whom she had cast favourable glances, for he is what Campbell calls one of the duchess’s picked men, (a strapping Blair-Athole man, from the mountain of Bein Meadhonaidh). "A very agreeable correspondence ensued between them, but how they managed I cannot tell, as neither knew a word of the other’s language, and Angus speaks more Gaelic than English; so I suppose they conversed by the eyes instead of the mouth.