In which attitude his two rivals also dismissed me, even though I sought the good will of the last by squandering the bulk of a bright gold sovereign for Baedeker's "Spain." As I turned down to the harbor, a thought, or more exactly the sight of a sergeant's uniform under the fortress gate, struck me. The wearer stiffened like a ramrod when I halted before him.
"Have you a library in the barracks?"
"Ah--certainly, garrison library. But I hardly fawncy the commander would allow--"
"Of course not," I interrupted, tossing the books into his arms; "but I am off for Spain and if you have any use for a few novels--"
"Ah--er--well, thank you most kindly, sir!" bawled the officer after me.
Though the fact may never be called to his attention, the sergeant had heard the last phrase of English that passed my lips in many a week. As a personal experiment I had resolved not to speak a word of my native tongue within the kingdom of Spain, even to myself; though this latter proviso, to be sure, necessitated the early acquisition of a few Spanish terms of double voltage.
The forerunner of evening was descending upon Algeciras as I mounted through her now all but voiceless fiesta and struck away over a grass-patched hillock. The further slope was skirted by a dusty highway that wound off through a billowy country pregnant with the promise of greater heights to come. But the trend of the road was west rather than north. Over the hills ahead two male voices were bawling a sort of dialogue of song. I mended my pace and had soon overtaken two peasants rollicking homeward from the festival. When I inquired if this were the highway to Madrid they fell suddenly silent, after a word of greeting, and strode along beside me exchanging puzzled glances.
"Well, then, to Honda, señores?" I asked. "Poresta carretera?"
"No, no, señor!" they answered quickly. "Por aquí no! You must go on the railroad."
"No, I am traveling on foot."