yes. He watched her, two or three times
spoke to her. But when she saw how he must haggle over the price of
food and lodging she laughed, and returned to the side of a muleteer
with a sash and little bells upon his hat.

All along the road fell these retardations. Then as the mountains
loomed higher, the spirit of contradiction apparently grew tired and
fell behind. For several days he traveled quite easily. "My Lady
Fortune," asked Ian, "what is up your sleeve?"

The air stayed smiling and sweet. In a town half mountain, half plain,
he made friends at the inn with Don Fernando, son of an ancient,
proud, decaying house, poor as poverty. Don Fernando had been in
Paris, knew by hearsay England, and had heard Scotland mentioned.
Spaniard and Scot drank together. The former was drawn into almost
love of Ian. Here was a help against boundless ennui! Ian and his
horse, and the small mail strapped behind the saddle, finally went off
with Don Fernando to spend a week in his old house on the hillside
just without the town. Here was poverty also, but yet sufficient acres
to set a table and pour good wine and to make the horse forget the
famine road behind him. Here were lounging and siesta, rest for body
and mind, sweet "do well a very little!" Don Fernando would have kept
the guest a second week and then a third.

But Ian shook his head, laughed, embraced him, promised a return of
good when the great stream made it possible, and set forth upon his
further travel. The horse looked sleek, almost fat. The Scot's jaded
wardrobe was cleaned, mended, refreshed. Living with Don Fernando were
an elder sister and an ancient cousin who had fallen in love with the
big, handsome Don, traveling so oddly. These had set hand-maidens to
work, with the result that Ian felt himself spruce as a newly opened
pink. And Don Fernando gave him a traveling-cloak--very fine--a last
year's gift, it seemed, from a grandee he had obliged. Cold weather
was approaching and its warmth would be grateful. Ian's great need was
for money in purse. These new friends had so little of that that he
chose not to ask for a loan. After all, he could sell the cloak!

The day was fine, the country mounting as it were by stairs toward the
mountains. Before him climbed a string of pack-mules. The merchant
owning them and their lading traveled with a guard of stout young men.
For some hours Ian had the merchant for companion and heard much of
the woes of the region and th