At last the appointed day of meeting came, and Andrew arrived in the morning at the old trysting place, mounted on a hired mule, and without any attendant.  He found Preciosa and her grandmother waiting for him, and was cordially welcomed by them.  He begged they would take him at once to the rancho,[74] before it was broad day, that he might not be recognised should he be sought for.  The two gitanas, who had taken the precaution to come alone, immediately wheeled round, and soon arrived with him at their huts.  Andrew entered one of them, which was the largest in the rancho, where he was forthwith assisted by ten or twelve gitanos, all handsome strapping young fellows, whom the old woman had previously informed respecting the new comrade who was about to join them.  She had not thought it necessary, to enjoin them to secrecy; for, as we have already said, they habitually observed it with unexampled sagacity and strictness.  Their eyes were at once on the mule, and said one of them, “We can sell this on Thursday in Toledo.”

[74] Gipsy encampment.

“By no means,” said Andrew; “for there is not a hired mule in Madrid, or any other town, but is known to all the muleteers that tramp the roads of Spain.”

“Por dios, Senor Andrew,” said one of the gang, “if there were more signs and tokens upon the mule than are to precede the day of judgment, we will transform it in such a manner that it could not be known by the mother that bore it, or the master that owned it.”

“That maybe,” said Andrew; “but for this time you must do as I recommend.  This mule must be killed, and buried where its bones shall never be seen.”

“Put the innocent creature to death!” cried another gipsy.  “What a sin!  Don’t say the word, good Andrew; only do one thing.  Examine the beast well, till you have got all its marks well by heart; then let me take it away, and if in two hours from this time you are able to know, it again, let me be basted like a runaway negro.”

“I must insist upon the mule’s being put to death,” said Andrew, “though I were ever so sure of its transformation.  I am in fear of being discovered unless it is put under ground.  If you object for sake of the profit to be made by selling it, I am not come so destitute to this fraternity but that I can pay my footing with more than the price of four mules.”

“Well, since the Senor Andrew Caballero will have it so,” said the other gitano, “let the sinless creature die, though God knows how much it goes against me, both because of its youth, for it has not yet lost mark of mouth, a rare thing among hired mules, and because it must be a good goer, for it has neither scars on its flank nor marks of the spur.”