"I wonder these people persist in putting them up," said the commissary, "for they are of no manner of use."
"Use!" said Lady Mabel, "what is the use of a tomb-stone?"
"If you mean real use, I am sure I don't know," said Shortridge.
"I see that you are a thorough utilitarian," she replied; "and since these people will continue to commit murder on the high road, I suppose you would have them do it at regular intervals, so that by aid of these monumental crosses we might measure our journey by murders instead of miles. Come, Mrs. Shortridge, road-side murder is rife here, so the less we loiter on our way the better."
This remark had the effect mischievously intended. Mrs. Shortridge, turning somewhat pale, and twitching her bridle convulsively, urged her mule close up to the party.
They went on some miles across a desolate country, covered with heath, rosemary, and gum cistus, more fragrant than the many rank bulbous plants, which disputed possession of the soil with them. The road was rough with slaty rock, the air became beaming hot, and L'Isle told the guide to lead them to some place of shelter from the noon-day sun. Before them lay a high open plain, on which a large flock of sheep, dusky, and many of them black in hue, were feeding, and filling the air with their bleatings. On the right, beyond the plain, there was a grove of the Quercus Ilex, rugged, stunted, thirsty-looking trees, yet whose evergreen boughs gave promise of at least a partial shade. The arriero led the party toward it, but just as they approached the wood, several large and savage dogs flew out, and charged them with a ferocity that might have cost a solitary traveler his life. They were busy repelling this assault, when five or six men showed themselves from behind a thicket. Dark, sunburnt, smoke-dried fellows they were, with shaggy hair, and rudely clad, each man having a sheep-skin thrown over his shoulders, and most of them grasping long, rusty guns in their hands.
Mrs. Shortridge called out "robbers!" and entreated L'Isle to fire upon them. The commissary, too, but more coolly, pronounced them to be robbers, "when they find an opportunity to follow that calling; but, just now, they are watching their flocks."
"Shepherds! those ruffians, shepherds!" exclaimed Lady Mabel; "O! shades of Theocritus and Virgil, what a satire upon pastoral poetry!"
Shepherds, however, they were, who called off their dogs, after reconnoitring the party. The arriero inquired of them where water was to be found, and they pointed to a little hollow in the wood, an hundred yards off. He was leading the party that way, when L'Isle said to the ladies, "let us have a talk with these fellows."
"Certainly," said Lady Mabel, and she turned her horse's head toward them.