The _arriero_ inquired of them where water
was to be found, and they pointed to a little hollow in the wood, an
hundred yards off. He was leading the party that way, when L'Isle said
to the ladies, "let us have a talk with these fellows."
"Certainly," said Lady Mabel, and she turned her horse's head toward
them.
"Certainly not," said Mrs. Shortridge, and she reined her mule back,
"I am too near them already. I will not dare to take my siesta with
these fellows in the neighborhood, for fear of waking up in another
place than Portugal." And she followed her melting husband, who was
hastening out of the sun, in the hope of regaining his solidity in the
shade at hand.
L'Isle and Lady Mabel rode close up to the shepherds. They had been
resting under an oak, and the cooking utensils, some baggage, and two
asses near at hand, looked as if they, too, were travelers. L'Isle
addressed a tall, dark man, of middle age, who seemed to be the head
of the party. As soon as these men heard their own language from the
mouth of a foreigner, so fluently and correctly spoken, their faces
lightened up with interest and intelligence. They gave ready answers
to all inquiries, and L'Isle had to reply in turn to many a question
as to himself, his companions, and the news of the war.
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