Antonio de la Trava.—­With much pleasure, Senor Alcalde, since you order it.  With respect to this fellow, I shall not trouble myself to interfere.  He at least is no Englishman.  He has more the look of a wizard or nuveiro; one of those devils who raise storms and sink launches.  Moreover, he says he is from Padron, and those of that place are all thieves and drunkards.  They once played me a trick, and I would gladly be at the shooting of the whole pueblo.

I now interfered, and said that if they shot the guide they must shoot me too; expatiating at the same time on the cruelty and barbarity of taking away the life of a poor unfortunate fellow who, as might be seen at the first glance, was only half witted; adding, moreover, that if any person was guilty in this case it was myself, as the other could only be considered in the light of a servant acting under my orders.

“The safest plan after all,” said the alcalde, “appears to be, to send you both prisoners to Corcuvion, where the head alcalde can dispose of you as he thinks proper.  You must, however, pay for your escort; for it is not to be supposed that the housekeepers of Finisterra have nothing else to do than to ramble about the country with every chance fellow who finds his way to this town.”  “As for that matter,” said Antonio, “I will take charge of them both.  I am the valiente of Finisterra, and fear no two men living.  Moreover, I am sure that the captain here will make it worth my while, else he is no Englishman.  Therefore let us be quick and set out for Corcuvion at once, as it is getting late.  First of all, however, captain, I must search you and your baggage.  You have no arms, of course?  But it is best to make all sure.”

Long ere it was dark I found myself again on the pony, in company with my guide, wending our way along the beach in the direction of Corcuvion.  Antonio de la Trava tramped heavily on before, his musket on his shoulder.

Myself.—­Are you not afraid, Antonio, to be thus alone with two prisoners, one of whom is on horseback?  If we were to try, I think we could overpower you.

Antonio de la Trava.—­I am the valiente do Finisterra, and I fear no odds.

Myself.—­Why do you call yourself the valiente of Finisterra?

Antonio de la Trava.—­The whole district call me so.  When the French came to Finisterra, and demolished the fort, three perished by my hand.  I stood on the mountain, up where I saw you scrambling to-day.  I continued firing at the enemy, until three detached themselves in pursuit of me.  The fools! two perished amongst the rocks by the fire of this musket, and as for the third, I beat his head to pieces with the stock.  It is on that account that they call me the valiente of Finisterra.

Myself.—­How came you to serve with the English fleet?  I think I heard you say that you were present when Nelson fell.