“The Bengui will carry us all to the estaripel,” grunted the gypsy grandmother; “ho! ho! ho!”
The three females arose and walked slowly round the fellow, fixing their eyes steadfastly on his face; he appeared frightened, and evidently wished to get away. Suddenly the two youngest seized his hands, and whilst he struggled to release himself, the old woman exclaimed, “You want tobacco, hijo—you come to the gypsy house to frighten the Callees and the strange Caloró out of their plako—truly, hijo, we have none for you, and right sorry I am; we have, however, plenty of the dust á su servicio.” [127]
Here, thrusting her hand into her pocket, she discharged a handful of some kind of dust or snuff into the fellow’s eyes; he stamped and roared, but was for some time held fast by the two Callees. He extricated himself, however, and attempted to unsheath a knife which he bore at his girdle; but the two younger females flung themselves upon him like furies, while the old woman increased his disorder by thrusting her stick into his face; he was soon glad to give up the contest, and retreated, leaving behind him his hat and cloak, which the chabí gathered up and flung after him into the street.
“This is a bad business,” said I; “the fellow will of course bring the rest of the justicia upon us, and we shall all be cast into the estaripel.”
“Ca!” said the black Callee, biting her thumb-nail, “he has more reason to fear us than we him. We could bring him to the filimicha; we have, moreover, friends in this town—plenty, plenty.”
“Yes,” mumbled the grandmother, “the daughters of the baji have friends, my London Caloró, friends among the Busné, baributre, baribú.”
Nothing farther of any account occurred in the gypsy house. The next day, Antonio and myself were again in the saddle; we travelled at least thirteen leagues before we reached the venta, where we passed the night. We rose early in the morning, my guide informing me that we had a long day’s journey to make. “Where are we bound to?” I demanded. “To Trujillo,” he replied.
When the sun arose, which it did gloomily, and amidst threatening rain-clouds, we found ourselves in the neighbourhood of a range of mountains which lay on our left, and which, Antonio informed me, were called the Sierra of San Selvan. Our route, however, lay over wide plains, scantily clothed with brushwood, with here and there a melancholy village, with its old and dilapidated church. Throughout the greater part of the day, a drizzling rain was falling, which turned the dust of the roads into mud and mire, considerably impeding our progress. Towards evening we reached a moor, a wild place enough, strewn with enormous stones and rocks. Before us, at some distance, rose a strange conical hill, rough and shaggy, which appeared to be neither more nor less than an immense assemblage of the same kind of rocks which lay upon the moor. The rain had now ceased, but a strong wind rose and howled at our backs. Throughout the journey, I had experienced considerable difficulty in keeping up with the mule of Antonio; the walk of the horse was slow, and I could discover no vestige of the spirit which the gypsy had assured me lurked within him. We were now upon a tolerably clear spot of the moor: “I am about to see,” I said, “whether this horse has any of the quality which you have described.” “Do so,” said Antonio, and spurred his beast onward, speedily leaving me far behind. I jerked the horse with the bit, endeavouring to arouse his dormant spirit, whereupon he stopped, reared, and refused to proceed. “Hold the bridle loose, and touch him with your whip,” shouted Antonio from before. I obeyed, and forthwith the animal set off at a trot, which gradually increased in swiftness till it became a downright furious speedy trot; his limbs were now thoroughly lithy, and he brandished his fore-legs in a manner perfectly wondrous. The mule of Antonio, which was a spirited animal of excellent paces, would fain have competed with him, but was passed in a twinkling. This tremendous trot endured for about a mile, when the animal, becoming yet more heated, broke suddenly into a gallop. Hurrah! no hare ever ran so wildly or blindly; it was, literally, ventre à terre; and I had considerable difficulty in keeping him clear of rocks, against which he would have rushed in his savage fury, and dashed himself and rider to atoms.
This race brought me to the foot of the hill, where I waited till the gypsy rejoined me. We left the hill, which seemed quite inaccessible, on our right, passing through a small and wretched village. The sun went down, and dark night presently came upon us; we proceeded on, however, for nearly three hours, until we heard the barking of dogs, and perceived a light or two in the distance. “That is Trujillo,” said Antonio, who had not spoken for a long time. “I am glad of it,” I replied; “I am thoroughly tired; I shall sleep soundly in Trujillo.” “That is as it may be,” said the gypsy, and spurred his mule to a brisker pace. We soon entered the town, which appeared dark and gloomy enough; I followed close behind the gypsy, who led the way I knew not whither, through dismal streets and dark places, where cats were squalling. “Here is the house,” said he at last, dismounting before a low mean hut. He knocked—no answer was returned; he knocked again, but still there was no reply; he shook the door and essayed to open it, but it appeared firmly locked and bolted. “Caramba!” said he; “they are out—I feared it might be so. Now, what are we to do?”
“There can be no difficulty,” said I, “with respect to what we have to do; if your friends are gone out, it is easy enough to go to a posada.”