ed to lead nowhere, and
is therefore by consent avoided."

"Excuse me," said I, "but it was precisely by this exit that I saw
emerge three men as honestly drunk as any three I have met in my life."

For the moment he seemed to pay no heed, but stooped and held the candle
low before his feet.

"The path, you perceive, here shelves downwards. By following it we
should find ourselves, after ten minutes or so, at the end of a _cul de
sac_. But see this narrow ledge to the right--pay particular heed to
your footsteps here, I pray you: it curves to the right, broadening ever
so little before it disappears around the corner: yet here lies the true
path, and you shall presently own it an excellent one." He sprang
forward like a goat, and turning, again held the candle low that I might
plant my feet wisely. Sure enough, just around the corner the ledge
widened at once, and we passed into a new gallery.

"Ah, you were talking of those three drunkards? Well, they must have
emerged by following this very path."

"Impossible."

"Excuse me, but for a scout whose fame is acknowledged, you seem fond of
a word which Bonaparte (we are told) has banished from the dictionaries.
Ask yourself, now. They were assuredly drunk, and your own eyes have
assured you there is no wine between us and daylight. My son, I have
inhabited Rueda long enough to acquire a faith in miracles, even had I
brought none with me. Along this ledge our three drunkards strolled
like children out of the very womb of earth. They will never know what
they escaped: should the knowledge ever come to them it ought to turn
their hair grey then and there."

"Children and drunkards," said I. "You know the byword?"

"And might believe it--but for much evidence on the other side."

But I was following another thought, and for the moment did not hear him
closely. "I suppose, then, the owners guard the main entrances, but
leave such as this, for instance, to be defended by their own
difficulty?"

"Why should any be guarded?" he asked, pausing to untie a second candle
from the bunch he had suspended from his belt.

"Eh? Surely to leave all this wine exposed in a world of thieves--"

The reverend father smiled as he lit the new candle from the stump of
his old one. "No doubt the wine-growers did not contemplate a visit
from two armies, and such very thirsty ones. The peasants hereabouts
are abstemious, and the few thieves count for no more than flies.
Fo