A little beyond the scene of their encounter with the woodcutters, the
path entered among the gorges of the mountains, and the level plains of
France were for a time lost to their view. The route they were
following was a mere bridle-track, quite impracticable for carriages,
but leading to one of the "ports" already mentioned, by which they could
pass through to the Spanish side. Through this port a considerable
traffic is carried on between the two countries--most of the carrying
being done by Spanish muleteers, who cross the mountains conducting
large trains of mules--all, except those upon which they themselves
ride, laden with packs and bales of merchandise.
That such a traffic was carried over this route, our Russian travellers
needed no other evidence than what came under their own eyes; for
shortly after, on rounding a point of rock, they saw before them a large
drove of mules, gaily caparisoned with red cloth and stamped leather,
and each carrying its pack. The gang had halted on a platform of no
great breadth; and the drivers--about a dozen men in all--were seen
seated upon the rocks, a little way in advance of the animals. Each
wore a capacious cloak of brown cloth--a favourite colour among the
Pyrenean Spaniards; and what with their swarthy complexions, bearded
lips, and wild attire, it would have been pardonable enough to have
mistaken them for a band of brigands, or, at all events, a party of
_contrabandistas_.
They were neither one nor the other, however; but honest Spanish
muleteers, on their way to a French market, with commodities produced on
the southern side of the mountains.
As our travellers came up, they were in the act of discussing a
luncheon, which consisted simply of black bread, tough goat's-milk
cheese, and thin Malaga wine--the last carried in a skin bag, out of
which each individual drank in his turn, simply holding up the bag and
pouring the wine by a small jet down his throat.
They were good-humoured fellows, and invited our travellers to taste
their wine; which invitation it would have been ill-mannered to refuse.
Ivan and Alexis emptied some out into their silver cups--which they
carried slung conveniently to their belts; but Pouchskin not having his
can so ready, essayed to drink the wine after the fashion of the
muleteers. But the goat-skin bag, clumsily manipulated in the hands of
the old guardsman, instead of sending the stream into his mouth, jetted
it all over his face and into his eyes, blinding and half-choking him!
As he stood in his stultified attitude, wine-skin in hand, the precious
fluid running down his nose, and dripping from the tips of his grand
mustachios, he presented a picture that caused the muleteers to laugh
till the tears ran down their cheeks; shouting out their _bravos_ and
other exclamations, as if they were applauding some exquisite piece of
performance in a theatre.
Pouchskin took it all in good part, and the muleteers pressed him to try
again; but, not caring to expose himself to a fresh burst of ridicule,
the old grenadier borrowed the cup of one of his young masters; and by
the help of this managed matters a little more to his mind. As the wine
tasted good to the old soldier's palate, and as the hospitable muleteers
invited him to drink as much as he pleased, it was not until the
goat-skin bag exhibited symptoms of collapse, that he returned it to its
owners.
Perhaps had Pouchskin not indulged so freely in the seducing Malaga
tipple, he might have avoided a very perilous adventure which befell him
almost on the instant, and which we shall now relate.
Our travellers, after exchanging some further civilities with the
muleteers, had once more mounted, and were about proceeding on their
way. Pouchskin, riding his great French jennet, had started in the
advance. Just in front of him, however, the pack mules were standing in
a cluster--not only blocking up the path, but barring the way on both
sides--so that to get beyond them it would be necessary to pass through
their midst. The animals all seemed tranquil enough--some picking at
the bushes that were within their reach, but most of them standing
perfectly still, occasionally shaking their long ears, or changing one
leg to throw the weight upon another. Pouchskin saw that it was
necessary to pass among them; and, probably, had he squeezed quietly
through, they might have remained still, and taken no notice of him.
But, elated with the wine he had drunk, the ex-grenadier, instead of
following this moderate course, drove his spurs into his great French
hybrid, and with a loud charging yell--such as might have issued from
the throat of a Cossack--he dashed right into the midst of the drove.
Whether it was because the animal he bestrode was French, or whether
something in Pouchskin's voice had sounded ill in their ears, it is not
possible to say, but all, at once the whole Spanish _mulada_ was
perceived to be in motion--each individual mule rushing towards
Pouchskin with pricked ears, open mouth, and tail elevated in the air!
It was too late for him to hear the cry of the izzard-hunter,
"_prenez-garde_!" or the synonym, "_guarda te_!" of the muleteers. He
may have heard both these cautionary exclamations, but they reached him
too late to be of any service to him: for before he could have counted
six, at least twice that number of mules had closed round him, and with
a simultaneous scream commenced snapping and biting at both him and his
French roadster with all the fury of famished wolves! In vain did the
stalwart jennet defend itself with its shod hoofs, in vain did its rider
lay round him with his whip: for not only did the Spanish mules assail
him with their teeth, but, turning tail as well, they sent their heels
whistling around his head, and now and then thumping against his legs,
until his leather boots and breeches cracked under their kicks!
Of course the muleteers, on perceiving Pouchskin's dilemma, had rushed
instantaneously to the rescue; and with loud cries and cracking of their
whips--as muleteers alone can crack them--were endeavouring to beat off
the assailants. But, with all their exertions, backed by their
authority over the animals, Pouchskin might have fared badly enough, had
not an opportunity offered for extricating himself. His animal, fleeing
from the persecution of its Spanish enemies, had rushed in among some
boulders of rock. Thither it was hotly pursued; and Pouchskin would
again have been overtaken, had he not made a very skilful and extensive
leap out of the saddle, and landed himself on a ledge of rock. From
this he was able to clamber still higher, until he had reached a point
that entirely cleared him of the danger.
The French jennet, however, had still to sustain the attack of the
infuriated mules; but, now that it was relieved from the encumbrance of
its heavy rider, it gained fresh confidence in its long legs; and making
a dash through the midst of the _mulada_, it struck off up the
mountain-path, and galloped clear out of sight. The mules, encumbered
with their packs, did not show any inclination to follow, and the drama
was thus brought to a termination.
The woe-begone look of the old guardsman, as he stood perched upon the
high pinnacle of rock, was again too much for the muleteers; and one and
all of them gave utterance to fresh peals of laughter. His young
masters were too much concerned about their faithful Pouchskin to give
way to mirth; but on ascertaining that he had only received a few
insignificant bruises,--thanks to the Spanish mules not being shod,--
they, too, were very much disposed to have a laugh at his expense.
Alexis was of opinion that their follower had made rather free with the
wine-skin; and therefore regarded the chastisement rather in the light
of a just retribution.
It cost the izzard-hunter a chase before Pouchskin's runaway could be
recovered; but the capture of the jennet was at length effected; and,
all things being set to-rights, a parting salute was once more exchanged
with the muleteers, and the travellers proceeded on their way.