"
This was the permission that Morano sought, and a hideous yell
broke from his throat hailing the boatman. The boatman looked up
lazily, a young man with strong brown arms, turning black
moustaches towards Morano. Again Morano hailed him and ran along
the bank, while the boat drifted down and the boatman steered in
towards Morano. Somehow Morano persuaded him to come in to see
what he wanted; and in a creek he ran his boat aground, and there
he and Morano argued and bargained. But Rodriguez remained where
he was, wondering why it took so long to turn his servant's mind
from that curious fancy. At last Morano returned.
"Well?" said Rodriguez.
"Master," said Morano, "he will row us to the Pyrenees."
"The Pyrenees!" said Rodriguez. "The Ebro runs into the sea." For
they had taught him this at the college of San Josephus.
"He will row us there," said Morano, "for a gold piece a day,
rowing five hours each day."
Now between them they had but four gold pieces; but that did not
make the Ebro run northward. It seemed that the Ebro, after going
their way, as Morano had said, for twenty or thirty miles, was
joined by the river Segre, and that where the Ebro left them,
turning eastwards, the course of the Segre took them on their way:
but it would be rowing against the current.
"How far is it?" said Rodriguez.
"A hundred miles, he says," answered Morano. "He knows it well."
Rodriguez calculated swiftly.
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