“We were at the convent together,” the girl said. “Of course we will lend you a horse. What is your name?”
“Ridden. Will you tell me yours?”
“We are Ribotes,” she said. “But what makes us consider is, the road to Anselmo. It is no road, my brother says.”
“It is a bad road,” Anton said.
“I don’t mind how bad it is as long as it is a road,” he said. “And I’ll not let your horse down or give him a sore back or anything; I swear I won’t. And I don’t know how to thank you for saying you will lend me one. The point is, getting him back to you. I’m going to the Elenas, the horse-breeders, of Anselmo; I am sure they would send him back or I would bring him back myself, if you would not mind waiting a few days.”
“Bring him back yourself,” Anton said.
“Yes, yes,” the girl said.
“The horse will be all right,” Anton said, “but how about the rider? First you must have food.”
They gave him sausage, bread, coffee and figs. Then they filled saddle-bags with these things and with corn for him to take with him. Anton brought him a silk scarf.
“You will want this for your neck,” he said. “There will be ticks or mosquitoes in the forest.”