up,
the place might have been under a spell of enchantment, a kind of
"sleeping sickness," for at least five hundred unnoticeable years.

Our maps said that it was Ciudad Real; Colonel O'Donnel added that of all
garrison towns it was the one which young officers hated worst. And while
the car paused with panting motor for a discussion as to the way on, two
dark youths by the roadside interested themselves in our situation. They
had red handkerchiefs twisted round their heads, and the smarter of the
pair wore two sombreros, one over the other--a simple way of carrying his
Sunday hat on week-days; and they looked up from a meal of maize bread and
onions to enter into conversation.

Had our honours any doubt as to the road? If so, and our worships would
deign to mention the destination desired, they might have the happiness of
helping us.

We wanted to go to Manzanares, I replied.

In that case, replied the owner of the two sombreros, there was a short
cut which would be of assistance. Not only would it save us a bad section
of road, but an hour's time as well. We must not go through the town, but
turn to the left round the wall, nor must we enter the village which we
would soon see, but skirt that also. Presently we would come to fields
planted with olives, and our way would lead through these. We must not be
disheartened if it appeared wild and rough. We should be able to pass, and
in the end would be glad that we had availed ourselves of such advice.

Taking this for granted, I gave each of the lads a peseta, which they
accepted more as their just due than as a favour. To avoid the town, it
seemed that we must steer into chaos, void and formless; but there were
only a few hundred yards of desert. Beyond, we found ourselves in a good
road, which led to the white village we had been told to expect; and
there, as we were already primed with information, we wasted no time in
asking questions. Instead, we plunged into open country, with a vista of
olive trees in the grey-green distance. From fair, the road dwindled to
doubtful; then to a certainty of badness. It narrowed; softened to a
sandbank; hardened into a wilderness of rocks and stones scattered between
deep ruts dug by the wheels of ox-carts. Apparently no other vehicles than
these had ever weathered the terrors of this passage; yet we persevered;
for here were the promised olive trees, so near, indeed, that we lurched
against them as we rocked from side to side.