“You have bad weather for travelling,” she said.
“Bad it is,” replied the youth dryly, without removing his eyes from the fire.
The muleteers examined the young man in silence. El Mojoso came back from the stable where he had taken the horse, brought in a half-filled sack on his back, and emptied it into the bin, weighed the barley in the measure, and asked the horseman:
“What shall I give the animal?”
“Give him a good feed.”
“Shall I give him two quarts?”
“Yes.”
El Mojoso went out with the measure in one hand and the lantern in the other.
“This chap,” he murmured into his cloak, “is a rich youngster who has been in some escapade in Cordova. His horse is out there with an embossed saddle. The boy will pay well.”
El Mojoso was a man who knew his profession. Convinced of the character of the young man, he returned to the kitchen with a broader smile than usual, and said: