It soon ceased, and I heard feet on the road. It
was the short staggering kind of tread of people carrying a very
heavy substance, nearly too much for their strength, and I thought
I heard the hurried breathing of men over-fatigued. There was a
short pause, during which I conceived they were resting in the
middle of the road; then the stamping recommenced, until it reached
the other side, when I again heard a similar rustling amidst
branches; it continued for some time and died gradually away.
I continued my road, musing on what had just occurred, and forming
conjectures as to the cause. The lightning resumed its flashing,
and I saw that I was approaching tall black mountains.
This nocturnal journey endured so long that I almost lost all hope
of reaching the town, and had closed my eyes in a doze, though I
still trudged on mechanically, leading the horse. Suddenly a voice
at a slight distance before me roared out, "Quien vive?" for I had
at last found my way to Villafranca. It proceeded from the sentry
in the suburb, one of those singular half soldiers half guerillas,
called Miguelets, who are in general employed by the Spanish
government to clear the roads of robbers. I gave the usual answer,
"Espana," and went up to the place where he stood.
