soon making Lady Mabel look round, she drew up her horse in haste, and
anxiously watched Moodie's career. A deep chasm, washed out by the
winter rains, was cleared by the horse in capital style, but Moodie
lit on his valise, and with difficulty recovered the saddle. Just
between him and Lady Mabel the last tree on the hill-side, torn from
the shallow soil by some heavy blast, lay horizontally on its decaying
roots and branches. Moodie rode at it with unquailing eye; and, while
Lady Mabel uttered an exclamation of alarm, the horse cleared it in a
bucking leap, throwing Moodie against the holsters; but he fell back
into his seat, and rode up triumphantly to his mistress. This
energetic demonstration seemed to overawe Lady Mabel. Turning from the
hill-top before them, she rode demurely back to the party, resolved
not to wander from the beaten path, or go faster than a foot-pace,
until Moodie had dismounted, and his neck was safe.

A peasant on an ass, coming down the road, had stopped and stood at
gaze at a distance, watching these equestrian manoeuvres. But when he
saw the party, now united, coming toward him, he turned short to the
left, and hastened away at a pace that proved that his _burro_ had
four nimble legs.

"That must be a thief," said Mrs. Shortridge, "afraid of falling in
with honest folks."

"Or an honest man," suggested L'Isle, "afraid of falling among
thieves. I have observed a growing dislike in the peasantry to meeting
small parties of our people in out of the way places. I suspect that
they are sometimes made to pay toll for traveling their own roads."

Their road was winding round the side of the hill, and they presently
got a glimpse of a cultivated valley before them. The spirit of
mischief suddenly revived in Lady Mabel's bosom. She fell back
alongside of Moodie, and said: "This way seems much traveled. It is no
longer a by-path; we may call it a high road in this country. We must
be drawing near to the city of Mauropolis. I wonder we have yet met
none of these turbaned Moors."

Moodie roused himself, and looked anxiously ahead. The mountain
shadows already fell upon the valley; but the evening sun still shone
upon a city opposite to them. It was seated high above the valley, and
flanked by two fortresses of unequal elevation, which partly hid it.
The Serra de Portalagre rising behind, overhung it, and the city
seemed nestled in a nook in the steep mountain side. Moodie from this
point did not