the passage.

"Hola! Don Manolo!" shouted the officer, as he halted his party in
front of the house; "what scurvy hospitality is this? What are you
fastening doors and ringing alarm-bells for, as if there were more
thieves than honest men in the land? We come to pay you a friendly
visit, and, instead of welcome and the wine-skin, you shut the door in
our faces. Devilish unfriendly, that, Don Manolito!"

The speaker, who, like many of Merino's followers, was an inhabitant
of the neighbouring country, knew Don Manuel well by name and
reputation, and was also known to him as a deserter from the
Constitutionalists in 1823, and as one of the most desperate smugglers
and outlaws in the province.

"What do you want with me, Pedro Rufin?" demanded Don Manuel, who now
showed himself at one of the upper windows; "and what is the meaning
of this assemblage of armed men?"

"The meaning is," replied Rufin, "that I have been detached from the
division of his Excellency General Merino, to demand from you a
certain quantity of maize or barley, or both, for the service of his
Majesty King Charles V."

"I know no such persons," retorted Don Manuel, "as General Merino or
King Charles V. But I know you well, Rufin, and the advice I give you
is to begone, yourself and your companions. We shall have troops here
to-day or to-morrow, and you will find the country too hot to hold
you."

The officer laughed.

"Troops are here already," he said; "you may have seen our column
march by not half an hour ago. But we have no time to lose. Once more,
Senor Herrera, open the door, and that quickly."

"My door does not open at your bidding," replied Don Manuel. "I give
you two minutes to draw off your followers, and, if you are not gone
by that time, you shall be fired upon."

"Morral," said the officer to one of his men, "your horse is a kicker,
I believe. Try the strength of the door."

The soldier left the ranks, and turning his rawboned, vicious-looking
chestnut horse with its tail to the house-door, he pressed his
knuckles sharply upon the animal's loins, just behind the saddle. The
horse lashed out furiously, each kick of his iron-shod heels making
the door crack and rattle, and striking out white splinters from the
dark surface of the oak of which it was composed. At the first kick
Don Manuel left the window. The soldiers stood looking on, laughing
till they rolled in their saddles at this novel species of
sledge-hammer. Owing, howe