Here there was a group of little boys and young men, one of whom had a whip.
“Be careful, child; hold on to me tightly,” said Quentin.
She squeezed the rider’s waist with her arms.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
The group of young people came toward Quentin, one of them brandishing the whip. Before they had time to frighten his horse, Quentin drove in his spurs and slackened his reins. The animal gave a jump, knocked down several of the jokers, and broke into a gallop, spreading consternation among the youngsters. When they had passed the Campo de la Merced, Quentin reined in his horse and began to walk again.
“How did you like that, little girl?” asked Quentin.
“Fine! Fine!” exclaimed Remedios, brimming over with delight. “They wanted to shoot us.”
“And they fell down.”
The girl laughed delightedly. Quentin guided his horse to the Puerta del Osario, and once through it, threaded his way along lonely alleyways. The horse went at a walk, his iron shoes resounding loudly on the pavement.