"I didn't like to be left behind, old sportsman," he exclaimed. "Staying in bed on a huntin' mornin' is not exactly my form, even when the quarry is merely a harmless Trappist!"
"Your early habits do you credit, but your language, St. Nivel," I said reprovingly, "is verging on the profane."
"I'm sure I'm very sorry," he answered. "I'd walk ten miles rather than offend any one's feelings. I hope Don Juan didn't hear me."
"Don Juan is a man of the world," I answered, "and it wouldn't matter if he did, but other people might hear you and not like it."
"Righto, Bill," replied my sporting cousin. "I'll keep my eye on you and try and not put my foot in it."
In a few minutes we were rattling through some magnificent mountain scenery, with luxuriant vegetation and lovely wild flowers on every side. On the tops of the trees were parrots of varied colours which, disturbed by the noise of the motor, fluttered in all directions before us.
"Now I particularly want you to notice the abbot," said Don Juan as we approached the monastery, a very ancient-looking pile of buildings situated in a most lonely spot on the side of a mountain, yet surrounded by scenery which would have rivalled any in the world; "he is a most remarkable man, and possesses, as you will see, a most remarkable presence."
Presently we drew up at a very plain front door, and were immediately reconnoitred through a small wicket hole.
"The janitor," observed St. Nivel, "is evidently taking stock of us, and for that reason, Bill, I feel thankful that you have put on that new Norfolk suit; it gives the whole party a classy appearance."
The survey seemed satisfactory. Some bolts were shot back and the door opened, disclosing a monk in a brown habit.