XVIII
ALARÓ
The shutters of the Casa windows had been left open that the growing light might awaken us in time to catch the morning train to Alaró, where we had planned to spend the day with two friends from England.
Looking out while it was yet dark, we were conscious of a lowering sky. The pocket barometer had fallen two points, and for the first time in many weeks we felt that the downpour which appeared to be threatening would be unwelcome.
While we dressed, the rain began to fall sulkily. It had been agreed that if the morning opened wet the expedition would be deferred, and having had experience of the thoroughness of Majorcan rain, I was half inclined to take a gloomy view of the situation and stay at home. But the others pooh-poohed my fears and off we set.
The optimists proved to be right. When we entered the station at Palma the rain had ceased, and the sun shone out on the Squire and the Lady, who were in the act of alighting from the Grand Hotel omnibus.
The town of Alaró, which lies close to the base of the northern range of mountains, is connected by a light railway with the main line at Consell. Horses drag the single carriage up the slight gradient to Alaró; it returns by the force of its own impetus. At Consell the funny conveyance with its tandem horses was waiting to receive the passengers. It had probably begun its career of usefulness by being a tram-car in some other part of the world. Now a partition divided the interior into first and second classes.
Disregarding the suggestion of the driver, who followed to remind us that first-class was inside, we mounted to the top, where two long lines of seats were set back to back.
Our progress towards the still invisible town was slow. The efforts of the driver to induce the leading horse to put on speed by throwing stones at him happily proved unavailing. With something of the smooth motion of a boat on a canal we glided on through fields of lush grain in whose midst olives grew luxuriantly. The threatening clouds had vanished, the sun was warm, the play of light and shade on the mountains was glorious, and there was not a soul in sight. The deliberate mode of progress through the lovely country was so delightful that when the line ended abruptly where the town began we all felt sorry. We agreed that we would have been content to glide thus slowly onwards for hours.
But on alighting we found our interest in the surroundings for the time being subdued by a stronger and more insistent interest in food. Our seven o'clock breakfast had been necessarily scrappy and hurried, and our first concern was to find an inn.
The civil guard who had been awaiting the arrival of our car was at hand. Applied to for direction, he not only recommended a fonda, but in person escorted us there.