`What I have just now said I will repeat.
'

`No, no. These are enough. Now,
tell me how thou hast heard this?'

`Yes, Guesippo,' cried Gaspar and
Luis in one breath! `Tell us how it
came to thee?'

`From the Moor's lips who sat in this
saddle.'

`Ah! Didst thou know him?'

`Listen and know all I know, Alfonso.
I was going with these two herdsmen, to
sell a dozen goats to the Mufti, who lives
in the Mosque, in the plain, once the
Church of the village of San Maria. I
would not sell to the Infidel, but we must
live, neighbours. We must have gold
and the Moors alone have it. I have often
sold to the Mufti before, and made him pay
well; though I would have been glad
that the first mouthful of goat's flesh had
choked him, and every Infidel that ate of
it. I will secure this firey horse to the
stake by the corner of thy hut, Gaspar!'

`A thousand wishes wont kill one
Moor,' answered Tito, as Guesippo returned
and leaned with his back against
a block at the door, while the others
gathered around him with dark looks
and earnest attention; the tall form of
Alfonso over-topping them all. Directly
opposite, and keenly facing Guesippo,
stood Gaspar, leaning on his broken boar-spear,
his wolf's knife by his side.—
Old Tito, supported by a staff taller than
himself, stood within the door in the
shade; and next to Gaspar, with her
hand upon his arm and indistinctly seen,
bent the fair form of Xariffa, eagerly
listening.

`I had sold my goats,' continued Guesippo,
`and left the Mufti with my silver
in my pouch, and accompanied by my
two men here, who had helped me to
drive the goats. I had not gone more
than half a mile, when I heard galloping
and shouting behind me, and looking
back what should I see but three Moors
on horseback coming after us at top
speed. The road was narrow, and there
was a thick brush hedge on either side,
so that we could not get out of their way;
for I had no desire to be too familiar with
them, especially as I had a pouch of silver
at my girdle. So I resolved to run
for it; but finding they were coming up,
I spoke to my men and said, we are three
Christians to three unbelievers! Let us
give them battle in the name of the Virgin.
Each of you seize a horse by the
bit, while you defend your heads with
your staves, from the blows of their scymetars,
and it may be, we will unhorse
them! My men promised to do as I
did, and turning full upon them, we rushed
to meet them with loud cries, each of
us seized a horse by the bit, and guarded
our heads with our staves from the blows
of their scymetars. Two of the Moors
were unhorsed by the sudden shock given
them by their horses being stopped so
suddenly. The other broke away and
fled, seeing us despatch these two before
they could rise. One of the horses got
off also, but I held mine firmly by the
bit, and in an instant was in his saddle
in pursuit of the fugitive. But he rode
better than I, and turning back I bade my
men take the scymetars of the dead
Moors and come after me. So we held
on our way at a good speed fearing pursuit;
for the village was not half a mile
behind us. But, thank the saints, we have
reached here in safety, and show you
our horses and arms as proofs of our
words!'

`You have done well, Guesippo, you
and your friends. By the mass!' cried
Gaspar, `I would I had the killing of
these Moors!'

`And you saved your gold?' enquired
old Tito.

`Yes, and have this fine horse and

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

these scymetars besides; one of them,
you see, has a hilt of solid gold.'

`We should have great spoil of these
Infidels, if we would have courage to fight
them,' said Gaspar.

`And these Moors were not then those
who bore away Agata,' said Luis, with a
tone of deep disappointment. `I had
hoped, at least, that if she were not rescued
she had been avenged.'

Here Alfonzo briefly informed Guesippo
of the outrage against Luis, and the
death of Simeon the miller.

`I saw such a party of Moors at a distance,
passing east of the Mosque,' answered
Guesippo. `They were a good
three quarters of a mile off, and were riding
towards Cordova.'

`It must have been the same,' cried
Luis. `Oh, my poor, lost Agata—what
must be thy anguish, as well as mine!'

`Slaves! slaves! slaves!' slowly and
impressively repeated Alfonzo, as he
walked up and down the room. `We
are then become slaves! Oh, Christian
men! can Spain submit to this? There
are thousands in the land who have yet
thought themselves free, so long as the
Moor kept his hand from their tables;
but they will now feel the weight of the
Moslem yoke! Would to God they
could feel it cut into their necks so deeply
that, unable to bear it longer, they
would throw it off as one man, and cry,
`Liberty! and for God and Spain!'

At these stirring words, those about him
started, and Gaspar waving his staff, repeated
the cry—

`Liberty! God and Spain!'

`Words—mere words, my friends!'
said Alfonzo, dropping his head sadly.
`We have voices, and can speak—that is
all! They have not cut out our tongues
yet; but so long as we can do no more
than talk, let us be silent. Men should
use their steel, not their tongues!'

`Alfonzo, if thou wilt tell me how to
use mine to purpose,' cried Luis, `I swear
to thee it shall be drawn and made good
use of! I will not give rest to my body
till I have avenged or rescued Agata.'

`Thou talkest madly, boy!' cried Gaspar;
`thou mightest as well say you will
pluck Abdelasis by the beard before his
divan.'

The young man blushed, feeling too
keenly the rebuke; for he felt that he
was impotent—that he could in truth accomplish
nothing.

`I cannot tell thee, Luis, what to do—
save to bear or die,' answered Alfonzo,
in answer to his call upon him for aid.
`Spain will never move to throw off her
yoke, or avenge her wrongs, without a
prince to lead her to the field.'

`We must have a leader, Alfonzo—
but it need not be a prince,' answered
Luis. `If thou shouldst raise thy standard
upon a peak of the Sierra, every
man within sight of it would hasten to
rally around thee.'

`I believe it, boy,' answered Gaspar.

`There is no doubt of it,' cried Guesippo.
`Do not all men know thee to be
brave—to love thy country—to mourn
for her wrongs? Trust me, neighbors,
that all in the mountains would sooner
follow Alfonzo here than a prince whom
they know not. We have tried thee, Alfonzo.
'

`Mock me no more!' answered Alfonzo,
with a bitter smile. `Mock me no
more, my friends, and you my father.
I have slain wolves and driven robbers—
am I therefore a leader of a people?
You make me scorn myself, to think I
should be so idly talked of, and entreated.
My standard! What is it?—a wolf's
hide? No, no! Make me not angry,
my friends.' Thus speaking, the young
man left them, and walked into the cabin.

`Yet I will maintain my words, though
he be angry,' said Luis to the rest. `If

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

it were known that all men might have
an opportunity of redressing their wrongs
by flocking to the standard of Alfonzo,
even were it no more than a wolf's skin
hung upon his spear, he would find himself
at the head of an army ere thirty
days.'

`I know it. The Spaniard is no longer
asleep,' said Gaspar, `we are all awake
to our wrongs. Our hatred of the Moor
is ready to drive away our fears.'

`I pray you, Gaspar,' said Guesippo.
`I pray you talk with thy son.'

`And press the matter upon him. He
is the only man in Spain can save Spain,'
said Luis. `Fair Xariffa, speak to thy
brother, and rouse him to give the subject
attention.'

`My brother needs no rousing, friend,'
said the maiden; `he feels too keenly
now the wrongs his country bears. I have
heard him groan, by night when others
slept, over the oppression of his country.
But he feels that he can do nothing, and
what can he do? He is, even as yourselves,
poor and without power. He
would die for Spain, but his death would
not redeem Spain. We must look to
heaven, not to man, for aid.'

`The maiden spcaks truly,' answered
Tito. `I see nothing that we can do.'

`And shall we tamely become slaves
to the Moor?'

`I would like to know what man will
first give his name to be put on the register,
' said Gaspar with closed teeth, and
speaking through them. `If I were by I
would put my knife into his body.'

`Yet, thou wilt have to do it thyself,
Gaspar, brave as thou art,' answered
Guesippo. Thou must do it or lose thy
life.'

`I will not register my name there.
May I cut off my right hand ere it is so
false to me.'

`What wilt thou do?' asked Luis.

`Wait till they come after me.'

`And then?'

`Write my name on their hearts with
my broad knife,' responded the wolf-slayer,
as he pressed the point of his knife
upon the palm of his own hand. Then
those who would, after me, write their
names, may dip their pens in my blood,
if they will. I go not to Cordova to worship
in their Mosques—not I.'

`Who talks of going to Cordova?' asked
Alfonzo, coming forth with a stern
brow, and firey air. `Who will bend his
neck to the heel of the Moor? Speak;
for I would see him?'

`That is the temper I am glad to see
thee in, my boy,' cried Gaspar with delight.
`Thou didst mistake. Said I, for
one, I go not to Cordova.'

`And who also says he will not go
among you?' asked Alfonzo, in the hoarse
deep tones of a man who is deeply excited,
but is endeavoring to repress all
outward emotion.

`I say not that I will not go to Cordova,
but I say that I will never bow my
knee in the Mosque of Omar,' firmly responded
Luis. `I must see Cordova; for
I must avenge Agata. I go there, not to
use a pen, but a dagger.'

`Bravely worded, boy,' cried Tito.

`That spear hath the metal in it;' said
Gaspar. `With one thousand men of
such spirits, I would not fear to call on
Abdelasis in his seraglio. What thinkest
thou, boy? You seem gloomy.'

`Gloomy? No, no; I am right merry.
Have we not enough to make us
glad? We, poor, valueless peasants, are
to become of worth. We are to be priced
by the head. Rejoice, Gaspar! Thou
wilt be worth, perhaps, six hundred moidores
of silver, and thou Luis, as many,
perhaps. I may sell for five hundred;
and thou, Guesippo, for five hundred and
fifty, while Tito may be priced at three
hundred, going less, in consideration of
his age. Merry! Have we not reason

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

to be merry; to think that we poor rogues
of Christians are really worth so much
counted gold. Who dares to be gloomy?'

No one answered him. His words
sunk deep into their hearts. With but
few words more they separated, each to
his home and bed, there to forget awhile
their own and their country's wrongs.