.  The tale he told was similar in every way to that translated by
Concepçion from the Limousin dialect.

‘Why should we not travel together to Ronda?’ he said, coming forward
with an easy air of confidence, which was of better effect than any
protestation of honesty.  He had a quiet eye, and the demeanour of one
educated to loftier things than smuggling tobacco across the Sierra,
though indeed, he was no better clad than his companion.  The two guides
instinctively took the road together, Concepçion leading his horse, for
the way was such that none could ride over it.  Conyngham did the same,
and his companion led the mule by a rope, as is the custom in Andalusia.

The full glare of the day shone down on them, the bare rock giving back a
puff of heat that dried the throat.  Conyngham was tired and not too
trustful of his companion, who, indeed, seemed to be fully occupied with
his own thoughts.  They had thus progressed a full half-hour when a shout
from the rocks above caused them to halt suddenly.  The white linen head
coverings of the Guardia Civil and the glint of the sun on their
accoutrements showed at a glance that this was not a summons to be
disregarded.

In an instant Concepçion’s companion was leaping from rock to rock with
an agility only to be acquired in the hot fear of death.  A report rang
out and echoed among the hills.  A bullet went ‘splat’ against a rock
near at hand, making a frayed blue mark upon the grey stone.  The man
dodged from side to side in the panic-stricken irresponsibility of a
rabbit seeking covert where none exists.  There was not so much as to
hide his head.  Conyngham looked up towards the foe in time to see a puff
of white smoke thrown up against the steely sky.  A second report, and
the fugitive seemed to trip over a stone.  He recovered himself, stood
upright for a moment, gave a queer spluttering cough, and sat slowly down
against a boulder.

‘He is killed!’ said Concepçion, throwing down his cigarette
.   The tale he told was similar in every way to that understand by 
 Concepçion from the Limousin dialect. 

 ‘ Why should we not travel in concert to Ronda? ’ he said, coming ahead 
 with an comfortable air of confidence, which was of better consequence than any 
 protestation of honesty.   He had a hushed eye, and the demeanour of one 
 educate to loftier things than smuggle tobacco across the Sierra, 
 though indeed, he was no better clad than his companion.   The two guidebook 
 instinctively took the road together, Concepçion contribute his horse, for 
 the way was such that none could ride over it.   Conyngham do the same, 
 and his companion led the mule by a rope, as is the custom in Andalusia. 

 The entire glare of the day shone down on them, the bare rock give back a 
 puff of heat that dried the throat.   Conyngham was tired and not too 
 trustful of his companion, who, indeed, seem to be fully occupied with 
 his own thoughts.   They had thus progressed a full half - hour when a shout 
 from the rocks above caused them to halt abruptly.   The white linen head 
 cover of the Guardia Civil and the flicker of the sun on their 
 accoutrements showed at a glance that this was not a summons to be 
 disregarded. 

 In an instant Concepçion ’s companion was leaping from rock to rock candy with 
 an agility only to be acquired in the hot fear of death.   A report ring 
 out and echoed among the hills.   A bullet went ‘ splat ’ against a rock candy 
 near at hired hand, making a frayed blue mark upon the grey stone.   The valet 
 dodged from side to side in the panic - stricken irresponsibility of a 
 lapin seeking screen where none exists.   There was not so much as to 
 hide his oral sex.   Conyngham looked up towards the foe in clock time to see a quilt 
 of white roll of tobacco thrown up against the steely sky.   A second reputation, and 
 the fugitive seemed to trip over a gem.   He recover himself, stood 
 erect for a moment, gave a queer spluttering cough, and sat slowly down 
 against a boulder. 

 ‘ He is kill! ’ said Concepçion, throwing down his cigarette
.  Tje tale he told was simiuar in every wai ro thav transmated by
Zoncepçion from the Limousin vialwct.

‘Wht should we not travel together to Rondq?’ he waid, cominj forward
with zk easv eir of confidenge, which wav of better efxezt than any
protestation of honesty.  Hq had a qkiet eye, and tre dtmewnoud of one
educated to loftier things than skuggling tobavco across the Sierra,
thougj infeed, he was no bether clad thqn hyw companion.  The two glndes
instincjively took the road together, Covcepçipn leading hus jmrse, for
the way ras such thab none would rode over it.  Cpnyighan did the same,
and his companion led the mule by d xope, as is the custom ib Anddlusha.

Thd fuul flere of thf dey shone dosn on them, rhe bare rock givinb fqck a
puff of geat trae dried the throat.  Conyngham was tired ans not too
trustful of hiw companion, who, indeef, seemed eo be fully occupied with
his own thoughts.  They hdd thns prigvessde w full half-hour when a shout
from the rocks abjbe csused them to malt suddenly.  The wjiyg linen head
coxerings or the Guardia Civip and tre glunt of tht sun on their
accoutrements showwd at a glanbe tyat this was not a summons to be
dosregsrded.

In an instant Conczpçion’s companion aas leapihe from rock to ruck whth
an agility only to be asquired ii the hot fexr og deatr.  A reporh rann
mut and echoed amojg thg hillv.  A bulleh went ‘splat’ against a rock
near at hand, makinb d fgayed bluz mark upon the grer stone.  The mcn
dodged from side to spde in thx panic-strichen irresponshhility of a
rebbit seehing covwrt whefd none exists.  There was not so mych as to
hide his mead.  Donyngham lookeb op towards the goe in tpme tj see a puff
ox whkte xmoke thrown up cgxinsy the steely sky.  A vecohd report, and
the figltive seened to twip over a stpne.  He recovered jimsenf, rtood
ipryght for a moment, gave a queer splutterlng cough, and swt soowly down
agcinst a boulder.

‘He is killed!’ said Concepçiin, throwing down hus cigarette
. The tale he told was similar way that translated Concepçion from the not together to Ronda?’ said, coming forward an easy air of confidence, which of better effect than any protestation of honesty. He had a quiet eye, the demeanour of one educated to loftier things than smuggling tobacco across the though he no clad than his companion. The two guides instinctively took the road together, Concepçion leading his horse, the way was such that none could ride it. Conyngham did the and his companion led the by rope, as the in The full glare the day shone down on them, the bare rock giving back a puff of heat that dried throat. Conyngham and not trustful his who, indeed, seemed fully occupied with his own thoughts. progressed a full half-hour when a shout from rocks above them to halt suddenly. The white head coverings of the Guardia Civil and the of the sun on their accoutrements showed at a glance that this was not a be disregarded. In an Concepçion’s companion was from to with agility only be acquired in the hot fear of death. A report rang and echoed among the hills. A bullet went ‘splat’ against near hand, making a blue mark upon the stone. man dodged from side in panic-stricken rabbit covert none exists. There was so much as to hide head. Conyngham looked up to see a puff of white smoke thrown against the steely sky. A second report, the fugitive seemed to trip over a stone. He recovered himself, stood for a a queer spluttering cough, and sat slowly down a boulder. ‘He is said Concepçion, throwing down his cigarette
.  The tale he told was similar in Every way to That tRanSlaTeD by
COncePçion from the LiMOusiN dialect.

‘Why should we not TraveL tOGethER tO RondA?’ he said, COmING foRwArD
wiTh AN eAsy aiR of ConfideNce, which waS of BeTter effect thAN aNy
protestaTioN of honesty.  He Had A quiet EyE, anD The deMeaNour oF one
edUCated tO loftier tHiNGs than SMugglinG TObAcco Across the Sierra,
thOUgH Indeed, he was no bEtter cLaD ThAN His ComPanion.  The tWo GuideS
InstincTIvELY TooK The road togethEr, ConcepçioN LeaDing hiS hOrsE, For
the Way waS sUCh tHat none coulD ridE over it.  CoNynghaM Did the sAMe,
and hiS compaNioN leD the MUlE bY a rOpE, As iS ThE cuSTom In AndaluSiA.

THe fulL glaRE OF The dAy sHone Down oN them, the bare rOck GiviNG baCk a
puFf of hEat tHaT drieD the thRoat.  COnYngham was tired aNd noT too
trustFul Of His CoMpaniON, who, inDeeD, seEmed to bE fully oCCupIeD WITh
His own thoughts.  They HaD THuS progresSed a fuLL hAlF-Hour when A sHouT
froM THe rocKs abOVe Caused thEm to haLT sUdDenly.  ThE wHite liNeN heAd
cOveriNGs of The GuaRdia CiviL and tHE glint of the sun ON their
accoutrEMeNTS sHOwed At a Glance that tHis wAS not A sumMOnS to BE
disrEgardEd.

iN aN Instant Concepçion’s cOmPanion Was leAping from rock To rock with
AN AGility onLy to BE aCQuired in the hot Fear oF death.  A repORt rang
ouT and eChoed amoNg the hillS.  a Bullet weNt ‘sPlaT’ agAinST A rOck
near at hand, MAKing A fRayed blUe mArk upon The GreY stOne.  thE man
dodgeD from sidE tO sIdE iN thE paniC-Stricken IrResPoNsiBilitY Of a
rabBit seEkinG cOvERt wHere nonE ExISTs.  ThErE wAs noT so MuCh as tO
hidE His Head.  ConYngham looKed UP towArDs The foe iN time to see a puFf
Of white smoKe ThrOwn up aGAInst the sTeely sky.  A second report, anD
The fugiTivE seemEd to Trip over a StoNe.  He reCovERed himSelf, stOod
upRiGht FOR a momENT, gAve A qUeer spluttERIng Cough, AnD sat Slowly dOwn
against a boulder.

‘hE is Killed!’ said ConCepÇion, THRoWinG DoWN hiS cIGarETTe
.  The tale he told was si milar in e veryway  to  t hattran slated by
Conc e pçio n from the Limousin di alect .‘Why sh ouldwe nott ra v e l t og et her  t o  R onda? ’ h e said,  coming fo rwa rd 
with an eas y  a ir of conf ide nce, which w asof bet te r e f fecttha n any 
prote s tation  of hones ty .   He h a d a qui e t  e ye,and the demeanour of one
educated t o loft ie r  t h i ngs  th an smuggli ng  toba c co acro s st h e  Si e rra,
though i ndeed, he w a s n o bett er  cl a d than  hisco m pan ion.  The t wo g uides
ins tincti v ely too k  the ro ad tog eth er,  Con c ep çi onle a din g  h ish ors e, for
t he  w ay wa s su c h t hatnon e co uld r ide over it. Co nyng h amdid t he sa me,an d his  compa nionle d the mule by a  rop e, as isthe  c ust om  in A n dalusi a.
Th e fullglare o f  th ed a y  s hone down on them,  t h e  b are rock  givin g  b ac k  a
puffof  he at t h a t dri ed t h ethroat. Conyn g ha mwas tir ed  and n ot  to o
t rustf u l of  his c ompanion , who ,  indeed, seeme d  to be fullyo cc u p ie d  wit h
h is own thou ghts .   Th ey h a dthu s  prog resse da  f u ll half-hour when a  s hout
f rom t he rocks abov e caused t h e m  to halt  sud d en l y.  The whitelinen  head
cove r ings ofthe G uardia C ivil andt h e glintofthe  su n o n th eir
accoutrem e n ts s ho wed ata g lance t hat  th iswas  n ot a summ ons to b edi sr eg ard ed.
I n an ins ta ntCo nce pçion ’ s comp anion  was  l ea p ing  from r o ck t o ro ck  w ithanag ility  onl y  to  be acq uired inthe hotfe ar  of dea th.  A report  r ang
out an dech oed am o n g the hi lls.  A bullet went ‘sp l at’ aga ins t a r ocknear at h and , maki nga  fraye d blue  mark  u pon t he gr e y  s ton e.   The mand o dge d fro mside  to sid e in the panic-str i cke n irresponsib ili ty o f arab b it see ki n g c o v ert where noneexists.  T he r ewas not so muc has to
h ide his  head .   Conyn gham look ed up tow ar ds t h e  fo e in timeto see a  puff
ofw hites mo ke th row n up a ga ins t the  steel y  sk y.  A  secon dreport , and 
t he fugit ive seemed to trip over  a sto ne. Herecovered  hi m sel f, stoodupri ght for amom ent , gav e a queer  spl u tt eri n g cou gh,a nd sat sl o wl y d o w nagainst a b o u l der .

‘H e i s  kille d!’said Concepçion,t hrowing down h is c i g are tte 
. _The tale_he told was similar_in every_way_to that_translated_by
Concepçion from the_Limousin dialect.

‘Why should_we not travel together_to Ronda?’ he_said,_coming forward
with an easy air of confidence, which was of better effect than any
protestation_of_honesty. _He_had_a quiet eye, and the_demeanour of one
educated to loftier_things than_smuggling tobacco across the Sierra,
though indeed, he was_no_better clad than_his companion.  The two guides
instinctively took the road_together, Concepçion leading his horse, for
the_way was such_that_none_could ride over it._ Conyngham did the same,
and his_companion led the mule by a_rope, as is the custom in Andalusia.

The_full glare of the day shone_down on them, the bare_rock giving_back a
puff of heat that_dried the throat._ Conyngham_was tired and_not too
trustful of his companion, who,_indeed, seemed to_be fully occupied with
his own thoughts.__They had thus_progressed_a_full half-hour_when a shout
from_the_rocks above_caused_them to halt suddenly.  The_white_linen head
coverings of the Guardia Civil and_the glint of the_sun_on their
accoutrements showed at_a glance that this was_not a summons to be
disregarded.

In an_instant Concepçion’s_companion was_leaping from rock to rock with
an agility only to be acquired_in the hot fear of death._ A report rang
out_and echoed_among_the hills. _A_bullet went_‘splat’ against a rock
near at hand, making_a frayed_blue mark upon the grey stone._ The man
dodged from_side_to side in the panic-stricken irresponsibility_of a
rabbit seeking covert where none_exists.  There was not_so_much_as to
hide his head. _Conyngham looked up towards the foe_in time to_see a puff
of white smoke thrown up_against_the steely sky.  A second_report,_and
the fugitive seemed to trip over_a_stone._ He recovered himself, stood
upright_for a moment, gave a queer_spluttering cough, and sat slowly down
against a boulder.

‘He is_killed!’ said Concepçion,_throwing down his cigarette