.

.

"No, senor officer! Decidedly no mule is to be got in this poor place." The coxswain, who stood by with the true sailor's air of unconcern in strange surroundings, struck in quietly-- "If your honour will believe me Shank's pony's the best for this job.

I would have to leave the beast somewhere, anyhow, since the captain has told me that half my way will be along paths fit only for goats." The diminutive man made a step forward, and speaking through the folds of the cloak which seemed to muffle a sarcastic intention-- "Si, senor.

They are too honest in this village to have a single mule amongst them for your worship's service.