"What walled town is that on the hill, with an old castle?" asked Quentin.
"About two leagues beyond?"
"Yes."
"That is Castello de Vide, famous for its cloth factory."
"Castello de Vide—good Heavens, senores arrieros, your pleasant society has lured me out of my proper way."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Ramon, drily.
"I should have gone to the right."
"Madre de Dios!"
"To the right?"
"Towards the French lines?"