I felt that there was a good deal of justice in some of these remarks, and I was aware, for the first time, that I had, indeed, committed a great imprudence in coming to this wild place, and among these barbarous people, without being able to assign any motive which could appear at all valid in their eyes.  I endeavoured to convince the alcalde that I had come across the country for the purpose of making myself acquainted with the many remarkable objects which it contained, and of obtaining information respecting the character and condition of the inhabitants.  He could understand no such motives.  “What did you ascend the mountain for?” “To see prospects.”  “Disparate!  I have lived at Finisterra forty years and never ascended that mountain.  I would not do it in a day like this for two ounces of gold.  You went to take altitudes, and to mark out a camp.”  I had, however, a staunch friend in old Antonio, who insisted, from his knowledge of the English, that all I had said might very possibly be true.  “The English,” said he, “have more money than they know what to do with, and on that account they wander all over the world, paying dearly for what no other people care a groat for.”  He then proceeded, notwithstanding the frowns of the alcalde, to examine me in the English language.  His own entire knowledge of this tongue was confined to two words—­knife and fork, which words I rendered into Spanish by their equivalents, and was forthwith pronounced an Englishman by the old fellow, who, brandishing his musket, exclaimed:-

“This man is not Calros; he is what he declares himself to be, an Englishman, and whosoever seeks to injure him, shall have to do with Antonio de la Trava el valiente de Finisterra.”  No person sought to impugn this verdict, and it was at length determined that I should be sent to Corcuvion, to be examined by the alcalde mayor of the district.  “But,” said the alcalde of Finisterra, “what is to be done with the other fellow?  He at least is no Englishman.  Bring him forward, and let us hear what he has to say for himself.  Now, fellow, who are you, and what is your master?”

Guide.—­I am Sebastianillo, a poor broken mariner of Padron, and my master for the present is the gentleman whom you see, the most valiant and wealthy of all the English.  He has two ships at Vigo laden with riches.  I told you so when you first seized me up there in our posada.

Alcalde.—­Where is your passport?

Guide.—­I have no passport.  Who would think of bringing a passport to such a place as this, where I don’t suppose there are two individuals who can read?  I have no passport; my master’s passport of course includes me.

Alcalde.—­It does not.  And since you have no passport, and have confessed that your name is Sebastian, you shall be shot.  Antonio de la Trava, do you and the musketeers lead this Sebastianillo forth, and shoot him before the door.