"We have no papers. Listen; we are English! We must cross into Spain, Tell us some other road; put us in the way, and--see--to-morrow morning, these are for you also."
And I took forth two more of the golden coins.
He looked at us a moment, then said: "You--hate--Spain?" Again I nodded.
"So all of us here at Valenza," he went on. "A fierce, cruel neighbor, would trample on us because we are weak. Will seize us yet an England helps not. Crush them--and France--the world's plague! Listen!"
Then, as we bent our heads, he went on: "From here there is a bye-road leads to the river bank; it crosses by a wooden bridge into Spain, a league this side of Melagasso. I will put you in the way in the morning. Once over that bridge, there is a road cut from the rock that mounts two hundred paces. There at the summit is the guarda frontéra. Two men are there, an old and a young one. Kill them, and you are through, leaving no trace behind. Afterward, there is no sign of life for three leagues."
"Kill them!" I exclaimed. "Must that be done?"
"Ay--or silence them. But--killing is best. And--and--the cliff is high, the river runs deep beneath. Cast them in, and you are safe."
"They may see us passing the bridge--kill us ere we can mount the road."
"Do it in the night," the fellow whispered. "In the night, when all is dark. And 'twill be almost nightfall ere you are there. Do it then."
"There is no other way, no other entrance to Spain?"