He w as an Englishman, a traveler
for pleasure.whose idle lounge brought
him to the farm. The place pleased
him, the jeopli , as everywhere in the
1 "lands, were hospitable, and proud of
the presence of a guest; so be re
mained. Day? w ore to weeks, weeks became
months, and still he lingered. To-day
It was an excursion among the shep
herds of the desolate heights, that hem
the valley in; to-morrow a sturdy
climb up the Monte del Tow, with Its
wind-worn convent ruins; again, a
U.ns ride through fields of golden grain
and gardens of olives, fruit groves and
fertile farms. Whatever the amuse
ment was lie followed it up earnestly,
as his countrymen always do.
At the end of his second month's
stay one of these excursions brought
him down the mountain side after
nightfall, with a wild gale blowing
from the north, sweeping over the bare
hills with a bitter breath.
As he rode iu the darkness, his atten
tion w as attracted by a w oman's shriek.
It pierced the night, and the gale.sharp
and clear, full of w ild appeals for aid,
and pushing tow ard It without hesita
tion, he found himself before one of
those high, pyramidal structures of
loose stones, in which the Balearic
shepherds shelter their sheep..
A fire was burning under the lee of
jhis stall, and by its light he saw a wo
mana girl, rather struggling. In the
arms of a burly, skin-clad ruflian.while
two others looked on with savage
laughs.
