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turn by turn, day by day, much alike. One who was a bully fixed a quarrel upon me and another took my part. All leaped to sides. I was forgotten in the midst of them; they could hardly have told now what was the cause of battle. A young merchant rode back to chide and settle matters. At last some one remembered that Diego had struck Juan Lepe who had flung him off. Then Tomaso had sprung in and struck Diego. Then Miguel--"Let Juan Lepe alone!" said my merchant. "Fie! a poor Palos seafaring child, and you great Huelva men!" They laughed at that, and the storm vanished as it had come.
I liked the young man.
How wild and without law, save "Hold if you can!" were these mountains!' "Hold if you can to life--hold if you can to knowledge--hold if you can to joy!" Black cliff overhung black glen and we knew there were dens of robbers. Far and near violence falls like black snow. This merchant band gathered to sleep under oaks with a great rock at our back. We had journeyers' supper and fire, for it was cold, cold in these heights. A little wine was given and men fell to sleep by the heaped bales; horses, asses and mules being fastened close under the crag. Three men watched, to be relieved in middle night by other three who now slept. A muleteer named Rodrigo and Juan Lepe and the young merchant took the first turn. The first two sat on one side of the fire and the young merchant on the other.
The muleteer remained sunken in a great cloak, his chin on his arms folded upon his knees, and what he saw in the land within I cannot tell. But the young merchant was of a quick disposition and presently must talk. For some distance around us spread bare earth set only with shrubs and stones. Also the rising moon gave light, and with that and our own strength we did not truly look for any attack. We sat and talked at ease, though with lowered voices, Rodrigo somewhere away and the rest of the picture sleeping. The merchant asked what had been my last voyage.
I answered, after a moment, to England.
"You do not seem to me," he said, "a seaman. But I suppose there are all kinds of seamen."
I said yes, the sea was wide.
"England now, at the present moment?" he said, and questioned me as to Bristol, of which port he had trader's knowledge. I answered out of a book I had read. It was true that, living once by the sea, I knew how to handle a boat. I could find in memory sailors' terms. But still he said, "You are not a seaman such as we see at Palos and San Lucar."
It is often best not to halt denial. Let it pass by and wander among the wild grasses!
"I myself," he said presently, "have gone by sea to Vigo and to Bordeaux." He warmed his hands at the fire, then clasped them about his knees and gazed into the night. "What, Juan Lepe, is that Ocean we look upon when we look west? I mean, where does it go? What does it strike?"
"India, belike. And Cathay. To-day all men believe the earth to be round."
"A long way!" he said. "O Sancta Maria! All that water!"
"We do not have to drink it."
He laughed. "No! Nor sail it. But after I had been on that voyage I could see us always like mice running close to a wall, forever and forever! Juan Lepe, we are little and timid!"
I liked his spirit. "One day we shall be lions and eagles and bold prophets! Then our tongue shall taste much beside India and Cathay!"
"Well, I hope it," he said. "Mice running under the headlands."
He fell silent, cherishing his knees and staring into the fire. It was not Juan Lepe's place to talk when master merchant talked not. I, too, regarded the fire, and the herded mountains robed in night, and the half-moon like a sail rising from an invisible boat.
The night went peacefully by. It was followed by a hard day's travel and the incident of the road. At evening we saw the walls of Zarafa in a sunset glory. The merchants and their train passed through the gate and found their customary inn. With others, Juan Lepe worked hard, unlading and storing. All done, he and the bully slept almost in each other's arms, under the arches of the court, dreamlessly.
The next day and the next were still days of labor. It was not until the third that Juan Lepe considered that he might now absent himself and there be raised no hue and cry after strong shoulders. He had earned his quittance, and in the