ter with a mule
who had four white feet--a sign of some extraordinary piece of luck,
according to Pilar's Dream-Book. The gently undulating, olive-silvered
country, with its occasional far-off hamlets and fine church spires did
not interest me, and I was not as thankful as I should have been for the
good road.

At last we had left the zone of brown cities and sombre hued villages, and
come into the zone of dazzling white habitations, which meant that we were
nearing the southern land, loved by the sun. The huge, semi-fortified,
high-walled farmhouses standing in lonely spaces were white as great
shells floating solitary on seas of waving green. The close-grouped knots
of cottages huddled together for mutual protection might have been cut
from blocks of marble; and their tenants were vivid creatures, burning
like tropical flowers against the dazzling white of their rough walls.

Never for ten minutes was the landscape the same. From olive plantations
we rushed into a bleak country of savage hills, where windmills planted
upon rocks beckoned with slowly moving arms; so down into flowery valleys
with a thread of silver river tangled in the grasses near a long white
road. And always the horizon was broken with tumbled mountains, purple,
gold, and rose, swimming in a sea of light and changing colour.

"Soon we'll be in Cervantes' country," said the Cherub; "and good country
it is--for sport. I come myself sometimes with friends, after wild boar;
and there are plenty of rabbits to be had when there's nothing better."

"Don't speak of rabbits," said Dick. "It makes me hungry to think of them;
and as nobody has said anything about lunching, and we're having such a
good run, I haven't liked to mention it. Still, there's that Andaluz ham
and goodness knows how many other things wasting their sweetness--"

The Cherub shook his head. "We mustn't stop here. It will be better to
wait till we come to another road-mender's house. We're sure to pass one
before long. Then we'll pull up, and the women will bring us water, or
anything we want."

"I believe what you're really thinking of, is brigands!" exclaimed Pilar.

"Well," smiled the Cherub, "maybe something of the sort was in my mind;
though you need have no fear, my Pilarcita."

"As if I would--a soldier's daughter!" sneered Pilarcita. "I wish we would
meet the Seven Men of Ecija, or El Vivillo himself--if they haven't caught
him yet. It would be fun."

"No fun with you amon