had picked up at Barcelona, and we three men plodding behind, the Don
with a guitar across his back, Dawson with our bundle of clothes, and I
with a wallet of provisions hanging o' one side and a skin of wine on
the other--and all as white as any millers with the dust of Moll's
dancing.

"It might be as well," says Don Sanchez, in his solemn, deliberate
manner, "if Mistress Moll were advised to practise her steps in our
rear."

"Aye, Señor," replied Dawson, "I've been of the same mind these last ten
minutes. But with your consent, Don Sanchez, I'll put her to a more
serious exercise."

The Don consenting with a bow, Jack continues:

"You may have observed that I haven't opened my lips since we left the
town, and the reason thereof is that I've been turning over in my mind
whether, having come thus far, it would not be advisable to let my Moll
know of our project. Because, if she should refuse, the sooner we
consider some other plan, the better, seeing that now she is in good
case and as careless as a bird on the bough, and she is less tractable
to our purposes than when she felt the pinch of hunger and cold and
would have jumped at anything for a bit of comfort."

"Does she not know of our design?" asks the Don, lifting his eyebrows.

"No more than the man in the moon, Señor," answers Jack. "For, though
Kit and I may have discoursed of it at odd times, we have been mighty
careful to shut our mouths or talk of a fine day at her approach."