To add to his discomposure one of those heavy sea-fogs peculiar to the locality began to drift across the hills and presently encompassed him.  While endeavoring to evade its cold embraces, Padre Vicentio incautiously drove his heavy spurs into the flanks of his mule as that puzzled animal was hesitating on the brink of a steep declivity.  Whether the poor beast was indignant at this novel outrage, or had been for some time reflecting on the evils of being priest-ridden, has not transpired; enough that he suddenly threw up his heels, pitching the reverend man over his head, and, having accomplished this feat, coolly dropped on his knees and tumbled after his rider.

Over and over went the Padre, closely followed by his faithless mule.  Luckily the little hollow which received the pair was of sand that yielded to the superincumbent weight, half burying them without further injury.  For some moments the poor man lay motionless, vainly endeavoring to collect his scattered senses.  A hand irreverently laid upon his collar, and a rough shake, assisted to recall his consciousness.  As the Padre staggered to his feet he found himself confronted by a stranger.

Seen dimly through the fog, and under circumstances that to say the least were not prepossessing, the new-comer had an inexpressibly mysterious and brigand-like aspect.  A long boat-cloak concealed his figure, and a slouched hat hid his features, permitting only his eyes to glisten in the depths.  With a deep groan the Padre slipped from the stranger’s grasp and subsided into the soft sand again.

“Gad’s life!” said the stranger, pettishly, “hast no more bones in thy fat carcass than a jellyfish?  Lend a hand, here!  Yo, heave ho!” and he dragged the Padre into an upright position.  “Now, then, who and what art thou?”

The Padre could not help thinking that the question might have more properly been asked by himself; but with an odd mixture of dignity and trepidation he began enumerating his different titles, which were by no means brief, and would have been alone sufficient to strike awe in the bosom of an ordinary adversary.  The stranger irreverently broke in upon his formal phrases, and assuring him that a priest was the very person he was looking for, coolly replaced the old man’s hat, which had tumbled off, and bade him accompany him at once on an errand of spiritual counsel to one who was even then lying in extremity.  “To think,” said the stranger, “that I should stumble upon the very man I was seeking!  Body of Bacchus! but this is lucky!  Follow me quickly, for there is no time to lose.”