Rodriguez and his captive and Morano went sadly down the mountain.  They came to the fir woods, and rested, and Morano cooked their dinner.  And after a while they were able to ride their horses.

They came to the foot of the mountains, and rode on past the Inn of the World’s End.  They camped in the open; and all night long Rodriguez or Morano guarded the captive.

For two days and part of the third they followed their old course, catching sight again and again of the river Segre; and then they turned further west ward to come to Aragon further up the Ebro.  All the way they avoided houses and camped in the open, for they kept their captive to themselves:  and they slept warm with their ample store of blankets.  And all the while the captive seemed morose or ill at ease, speaking seldom and, when he did, in nervous jerks.

Morano, as they rode, or by the camp fire at evening, still questioned him now and then about his castle; and sometimes he almost seemed to contradict himself, but in so vast a castle may have been many styles of architecture, and it was difficult to trace a contradiction among all those towers and turrets.  His name was Don Alvidar-of-the-Rose-pink-Castle on-Ebro.

One night while all three sat and gazed at the camp-fire as men will, when the chilly stars are still and the merry flames are leaping, Rodriguez, seeking to cheer his captive’s mood, told him some of his strange adventures.  The captive listened with his sombre air.  But when Rodriguez told how they woke on the mountain after their journey to the sun; and the sun was shining on their faces in the open, but the magician and his whole house were gone; then there came another look into Alvidar’s eyes.  And Rodriguez ended his tale and silence fell, broken only by Morano saying across the fire, “It is true,” and the captive’s thoughtful eyes gazed into the darkness.  And then he also spoke.

“Senor,” he said, “near to my rose-pink castle which looks into the Ebro dwells a magician also.”

“Is it so?” said Rodriguez.

“Indeed so, senor,” said Don Alvidar.  “He is my enemy but dwells in awe of me, and so durst never molest me except by minor wonders.”

“How know you that he is a magician?” said Rodriguez.

“By those wonders,” answered his captive.  “He afflicts small dogs and my poultry.  And he wears a thin, high hat:  his beard is also extraordinary.”

“Long?” said Morano.

“Green,” answered Don Alvidar.

“Is he very near the castle?” said Rodriguez and Morano together.

“Too near,” said Don Alvidar.

“Is his house wonderful?” Rodriguez asked.

“It is a common house,” was the answer.  “A mean, long house of one story.  The walls are white and it is well thatched.  The windows are painted green; there are two doors in it and by one of them grows a rose tree.”

“A rose tree?” exclaimed Rodriguez.