This, however, he positively refused to do. “How did he know I was the owner? It might be so, and very possibly was, but I must go with him to Vejer, and make oath to the fact before la Justicia.” This, I said, was out of the question: it was evident that the horse was mine, since I had claimed him the moment I had seen him; and as, by his own admission, he had found the animal, he must have done so out of my sight, since we were now in a thick wood. If, I added, he chose to return with me to Casa Vieja, the Padre, at whose house I was staying, would convince him of the truth of my statement, and I would remunerate him for his trouble. But I argued in vain! “If,” he replied, “I felt disposed to give him an onza,[117] he would save me further trouble, but otherwise justice must take its course.”
I remarked that the haca was not worth much more than a doubloon. “No!” exclaimed one of the party, jumping off his mule, thrusting his hand into his belt, and producing two, “I’ll give you these without further bargaining.”
This occasioned a laugh at my expense. I turned it off, however, by telling my friend, that if he would bring his money to Gibraltar we might possibly deal; but, as I had occasion for my pony to carry me back there, I could not at that moment conveniently part with him.
There seemed but slight chance, however, of my recovering my pony without trudging back to Vejer; and, probably, they would have ridden off, and laughed at me, after proceeding half way; or by paying a handsome ransom, which I was, in fact, unable to do, having only the value of a few shillings about me.
The dispute was getting warm, and my patience exhausted; for vain were my representations that the haca could belong to no one else—that the saddle, bridle, and even the very tail of the animal, were all English. The Don kept his seat, and coolly asked, whether I thought they could not make as good saddles, and cut as short tails, in Spain?
The party had halted during this altercation, and old Silenus, who, by his dress and position, seemed to be the head of the firm, had taken no part in the dispute. He appeared, indeed, to be so drowsy, as to be quite unconscious of what was passing. I determined, however, to make an appeal to him, and summoning the best Spanish I could muster to my aid, called upon him as a Spanish hidalgo, a man of honour, and a person of sense, as his appearance bespoke, to see justice done me.
He had heard, I continued, in fact he had seen, how the case stood; and was it to be believed that a foreigner travelling in Spain—perhaps the most enlightened country in the world—and trusting to the well-known national probity, should be thus shamefully plundered? An Englishman, above all others, who, having fought in the same ranks against a common enemy, looked upon every individual of the brave Spanish nation as a brother! Could a people so noted for honour, chivalry, gratitude, and every known virtue, be guilty of so bare-faced an imposition?
Oh, “flattery! delicious essence, how refreshing art thou to nature! how strongly are all its powers and all its weaknesses on thy side!”
“Baj’ usted!” grunted forth Silenus to the man mounted on my pony, accompanying the words with a circular motion of his right arm towards the earth. “Baj’ usted luego!”[118] repeated the irate leader in a louder tone, seeing that there was a disposition to resist his commands. “Mount your horse, caballero,” he continued, turning to me, “you have not over-estimated the Spanish character.”
I did not require a second bidding, but, vaulting into the vacated saddle, pushed my pony at once into a canter, replying to the man’s application for something for his trouble, by observing, that I did not reward people for merely obeying the orders of their superiors; and, kissing my hand to the fat old Satyr, rode off, amidst the laughter occasioned by the discomfiture of the dismounted knight.