Of all these brigands those had the worst reputation who carried on their depredations in the environs of Oropeza.  The proprietors of the three mules, on which M. Rodriguez, I, and my servant were riding one evening in this neighbourhood, were recounting to us the “grand deeds” of these robbers, which, even in full daylight, would have made the hair of one’s head stand on end, when, by the faint light of the moon, we perceived a man hiding himself behind a tree; we were six, and yet this sentry on horseback had the audacity to demand our purses or our lives:  my servant, at once answered him—­“You must then believe us to be very cowardly; take yourself off, or I will bring you down by one shot of my carabine.”  “I will be off,” returned the worthless fellow “but you will soon hear news of me.”  Still full of fright at the remembrance of the stories which they had just been relating, the three “arieros” besought us to quit the high road and cast ourselves into a wood which was on our left.  We yielded to their proposal; but we lost our way.  “Dismount,” said they, “the mules have been obeying the bridle and you have directed them wrongly.  Let us retrace our way as far as the high road, and leave the mules to themselves, they will well know how to find their right way again.”  Scarcely had we effected this manoeuvre, which succeeded marvellously well, when we heard a lively discussion taking place at a short distance from us.  Some were saying:  “We must follow the high road, and we shall meet with them.”  Others maintained that they must get into the wood on the left.  The barking of the dogs, by which these individuals were accompanied, added to the tumult.  During this time we pursued our way silently, more dead than alive.  It was two o’clock in the morning.  All at once we saw a faint light in a solitary house; it was like a light-house for the mariner in the midst of the tempest, and the only means of safety which remained to us.  Arrived at the door of the farm, we knocked and asked for hospitality.  The inmates, very little reassured, feared that we were thieves, and did not hurry themselves to open to us.

Impatient at the delay, I cried out, as I had received authority to do so, “In the name of the King, open to us!” They obeyed an order thus given; we entered pell-mell, and in the greatest haste, men and mules, into the kitchen, which was on the ground-floor; and we hurried to extinguish the lights, in order not to awaken the suspicions of the bandits who were seeking for us.  Indeed, we heard them, passing and repassing near the house, vociferating with the whole force of their lungs against their unlucky fate.  We did not quit this solitary house until broad day, and we continued our route for Tortosa, not without having given a suitable recompense to our hosts.  I wished to know by what providential circumstance they happened to have a lamp burning at that unseasonable hour.  “We had killed a pig,” they told me, “in the course of the day, and we were busy preparing the black puddings.”  Had the pig lived one day more, or had there been no black puddings, I should certainly have been no longer in this world, and I should not have the opportunity to relate the story of the robbers of Oropeza.