"They are looking at us very pointedly," I answered; and raising my voice, I said, "Can any of you talk Spanish?"
"Yes," cried several together, coming near to us; "what do you want?"
"To make ourselves known," I replied. "These worthy fellows can't understand us, and we're tired of playing hide-and-seek in the mountains."
"Who are you? Where do you come from? Are you for the king?" asked one.
This was treading on dangerous ground; but as we really were worn out, and there seemed no chance of escape, I thought it best to take the bull by the horns. At the worst we should only be handed over to the enemy and sent back to prison.
So I answered quietly, "No; we are Patriot officers who have escaped from the Spaniards. If you are on our side, perhaps you will help us to return to our own people."
"You are with friends, señor, if what you say is true," remarked one who seemed to have some sort of authority.
"If?" said I, trying to speak haughtily; "do you doubt it?"
"Well," said the fellow, with a knowing grin, "you don't look much like officers of any kind." And he was right.
We were, in fact, a pair of as dreary-looking objects as one would be likely to meet. Our sandals were worn out, our clothes hung in rags, and the holes in Alzura's tunic made it painfully apparent that he did not indulge in the luxury of a shirt. Whether we wore uniform, and if so what kind, would have been difficult to decide, as we were still plastered with mud from head to foot. So I could not altogether blame the man for his distrust.