And the muleteer, believing that it would be discourteous if he did not accept the invitation, would stop to satisfy the curiosity of Iñigo.
If a peasant woman came in when the weather was cold, with a basket of eggs or other farm produce on her head, Iñigo would say to her—
"You are welcome, sister. This is a bad time to come to town. Is there any news in your district? Won't you put down your basket, and warm yourself at the good fire I have here?"
And the peasant woman would do just the same as the muleteer.
If there is added to the information he obtained in this way all that he picked up from squires who brought their masters' horses to be shod, from the women and men of the vicinity, who rested themselves, talking meanwhile of their neighbours' affairs, on the bench of the horse-shoer, which was pleasantly shaded from the sun, all the world will agree that Iñigo was exactly suited to fill a position of the nature of those which we have mentioned above.
Two days after the return of the Cid to Burgos, there entered the city the same peasant to whom Iñigo had given so sound a drubbing on a former occasion. The farrier and he had become friends again, to judge by the way they saluted each other.
"You are welcome, Señor Bartolo," cried out the former on seeing the peasant.
"God keep you in His guard, Master Iñigo," was the reply.
"I was just saying to myself, that, considering all the news that is flying about Burgos, it is curious that Señor Bartolo is not coming to hear it."
"Oh, then there is a lot of news, eh? I swear that one might just as well be a captive among the Moors as live in a village."