"Los Cazas de Don Gomez?"
"Ay, sir, just sae,—a deevil o' a lang nebbit name! At a wine-house there Angus and I forgathered wi' a muleteer loon frae Almendralejo,—Lazaro Gomez, he ca'd himsel. Ye'll may be mind o' him?"
"Perfectly; but be quick with your story."
"Aweel, sir, the mule-driver gied us a' the news and clashin frae aboot Merida and ither places, and amang ither things tauld Angus that auld Sancho Garcionados,—or el Picaro, as the Spaniards ay ca' a lawyer, was gaun to compel the lassie, whether she wad or no, to marry a rich alcalde. Od, sir! I never saw a face change as puir Mackie's did, while the carrier callant chatted awa wi' us in his broken English, never kennin' the while that ilka word was fa'in' like scaudin' lead into the heart b' puir Angus. He came to me that nicht at tatto beat, and said he could thole this life no anither minute, and that—come weal, come wae, he would gang off for Almendralejo, and save the lassie or dee wi' her. I did a' I could to pacify him, but he minded me nae mair than the wind whistlin' ower the muir. He came to me whan I was on sentry at the toon end. His een were glistening, his face was white, like that o' something no cannie, and his gartered knees were chaffing thegither. I grew eerie to look at him, for the nicht was dark and gloomy, and the wind came soughing doon frae the hills wi' a sound like the moan o' a deid man. Ae starnie was glintin on the hill-tap, and I saw the reflection o'd in the rinnin water,[*] which passes the toon wa's. Angus stretched his hands towards the bit starnie, and said it was shinin' ower Almendralejo then,—and may be, his ain true love was lookin' at it; and that it hung like a lamp in the mirky, lift to guide him to whar she bided.
[*] The Alagona river, which passes Coria.
"'Hoots, havers!' said I, 'ye'll sune get ower'd; and may be that gomeral mule-driver's story o' auld Sancho's dochter was a' a lee,—every word o't. Gang hame to your bed, my man, and ye'll be better the morn.'
"But he just gied an unco' sough, and wrung my loof, gaed doon the brae, and left me. Next morning Serjeant Macrone reported him absent frae parade, and then I kent that he had taen to the hills and was awa'. The black een o' that Spanish lass hae cuisten' a glamourie ower him waur than witchcraft. Amang the hills he fell in wi' Captain Blacier's company o' the 60th, some o' wha spiered the gate he was gaun? Angus couldna or wadna tell, and a fray o' some kind ensued atween him and the German loons: in the middle o't, Angus drew his bayonet on auld Blacier, for which he now lies in airns in ane o' the square toors o' Coria."
"O the fool! Attempted to stab Blacier, did he?"
"Ay, an vera nigh stickit him i' the wame. Puir Angus! he ay hated thae thrawn gebbit Hanoverian dogs, as he ca'd them; for his faither, like yer ain, had been out in the forty-five,—wi' the Prince sae bauld and braw."
"The unfortunate madman! he will surely die. It is death, by the articles of war, to draw weapon upon an officer."