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CHAPTER IX.
TO THE COUNTRY

Home again! At first it seemed to Fernando as if he could never go back to school, for after his week of fêtes and processions and fun, lessons were dull things, but he soon fell into the old ways, and there were so many pleasant things at home that he did not pine for Sevilla at all.

He had a pet lamb – what boy has not in spring-time in Spain? – and he was devoted to it for awhile, trying to feed it all manner of things.

"Manuel," he said one day, "I do not know what is wrong with my pet lamb. It will not eat the things I give it. I have never seen so stubborn a thing. Mazo is far different. It will eat anything at all, but the lamb stands and stares at me, and shuts its mouth, no matter what I offer him."

"Lambs are always stubborn," said Manuel. "They do not eat much but milk when they are so young. But here, I have a new kite; will you fly it?"

"Indeed I will," cried the boy, and in an instant the lamb was forgotten, and he was skipping down the street, his kite skimming the air like a gaily coloured bird.

It was a beautiful spring in Granada, and Fernando spent every minute out of doors unless actually compelled to be in school or in bed. The family ate in the lovely patio where the flowers were beginning to blossom, and the sun was not too warm to do without the awning, which in summer stretched overhead. If it was not kites in which he was interested, it was marbles and ball, or even a play bull-fight; and Fernando was very proud when he was chosen to be "toro," and put his head in a basketwork affair with points like horns, and the boys chased him with sticks, running, jumping, and dodging when he turned and charged them as he had heard that the bulls did at the real corridos.

Best of all, it was time to have his head shaved, and of all things that was what he liked. His mother mourned, for the boy's hair was naturally curly, and in winter was as soft and pretty as black velvet. But all Spanish boys have their heads shaved in summer, and Fernando must be like the rest. It was cut so close that it made him look very funny, and his great black eyes shone like beads in his lean brown face, with no soft hair to soften its harsh outlines.

Fernando and Antonio were still devoted friends. They played together after school and on the holidays, and many delightful times did the two boys have, either in the Alhambra or at Fernando's home, where there were many city sights as interesting to Antonio as the delights of the old palace were to Fernando.

So devoted had they become that Fernando felt very sorry to leave his friend when the time came for him to accompany his mother and sister to their country home. Generally he had been delighted to go to the hacienda, and enjoyed the country school even more than the one he attended in the city, but this year he felt so badly over it that his father said:

"Never mind, my son. I shall bring Antonio out to visit you when school is over, and you may have a fine time together at the hacienda." This made Fernando more contented, and he went away with his parents quite happily.

As they started for the country on a bright May day, Juanita said, "Oh, mamma, see that strange cow! It is all dressed with flower-wreaths, and has bells around its neck and flowers on its horns. Why does that young girl lead it, and that old blind man walk behind, and blow that horn and beat the drum?"

"That is a cow to be won in a lottery," said the señora. "Manuel, stop; I wish to buy a ticket. How we Spaniards do love a game of chance! See, I shall buy a ticket for each one of you, and maybe your number will win the prize."

"Oh, thank you, mamma!" both children cried, for neither had ever had a lottery ticket before.

"Now I wish you to stop at a cigar-store, and buy a stamp¹³ for my letter to your Aunt Isabella, and then we will drive on."

As they turned into the main street leading to the Alameda, Juanita asked, "Oh, mi madre, what are those people sitting in the streets making?"

"Haven't you seen the ice-cream makers before?" said the señora. "No, I think you cannot remember last summer, can you? The gipsies go up to the Sierras in the very early morning, and get donkey-loads of snow, and the people make ice-cream in those pails with the snow in it. They sit right at their doors on the sidewalk and make the fresh cream, and any one can buy a glass of it."

"Do let us have some," cried the children, and their indulgent mother ordered the horses stopped while they ate some of the delicious fresh cream.

As the carriage rolled on down the steep street, so narrow that as Manuel said "one can hardly pass another after a full dinner," the swineherd was just coming out for the day, and Juanita cried:

"Oh, madre! See that man with the pipe in his mouth; what queer music he plays! What is he?"

"He is the swineherd, niña. See, he comes from his alley, staff in hand," the señora said. "Watch him blow his pipe without turning his head, and the pigs come after him, as if he had charmed them. Little and big, dark and light, fat and scrawny, there they come following him to pasture. Every alley we pass adds some curly tail to the procession. Now he is ready to turn out of the town into that grove, and see what an army of piggies follows him! He never looks for any of them, but they hear the music of his pipe and start because they learned long ago that it leads them to good pastures."

"I think they are too funny for anything," said the little girl. "Does he bring them back at night?"

"Yes, and every little piggy knows his own alley, and goes right home with a little frisk of his curly tail to say 'good night,'" said her mother, smiling.

"See those oxen; are they not splendid fellows? I love to see them draw their loads so easily. Beautiful creamy creatures, with their dark points and their great, soft eyes."

"What is that wooden thing over their heads?" asked Juanita.

"That is the yoke to couple them together. They are the gentlest animals in the world, these great, hornèd beasts, and the driver walks in front of them with a stick over his shoulder, which he seldom thinks of using."

"Oh, what a cunning little donkey!" cried the little girl, as they passed a tiny donkey laden with panniers filled with flowers, fruit, vegetables, bread, fowls, and even a water-jar. "How prettily he is clipped, all in a pattern."

"Mamma," said Fernando, "some of the donkeys that the gipsies have clipped have mottoes and pictures on them. I know a boy whose donkey has 'Viva mi Amo'¹⁴ on his side. I don't like that, for if the donkey doesn't love his master, it is telling a story."

His mother laughed. "We will hope he has a good little master, and then the donkey will care for him and not be telling a falsehood with his fur.

"But here we are almost to the hacienda, and how short the ride has seemed. Now if two children I know are good, we shall have a delightful summer, and although you are to be in the country, and thou, Fernando, will go to a country school, remember the saying of thy fathers:

 
"'Quando fueres par despoblado
Non hagas desaquisado,
Porque quando fueres per poblado
Iras a lo vesado.'"¹⁵
 

CHAPTER X.
GAMES AND SPORTS

The hacienda was more beautiful than it had been in the fall, and Fernando was soon busy as a bee. He had of course to attend school, but it was a country school, not so strict nor so large as the city one, and he enjoyed showing off his superior accomplishments to the other boys. This the others did not relish, and there was a grand fight to see which was the strongest, and when Fernando had whipped all the boys of his own size, he was happy and felt that he had not disgraced the name of Guzman. Manuel did not attend him in the country, and Fernando much enjoyed doing as he liked, roaming about, taking his own time to come home, tramping about the orange groves, or sailing boats in the brook.

When school was over and Antonio came for the promised visit, what merry times there were! The boys went swimming at all hours. They ran bareheaded all over the place, Mazo after them, their constant companion. Fernando had a few lessons to do each morning, a master to teach him his French, music, and drawing, – for boys of his class in Spain are accomplished as well as educated, – but these were soon over, and then, stung by the bees, burnt by the sun, wet by the rain, eating green oranges, doing in fact what American boys, or boys all over the world will do if let alone, this was the way in which the two Spanish boys spent their vacation.

Juanita, meantime, was having a very happy time. She, too, had a few lessons, and her aya was giving place to a governess, but she was still too young to learn much, and the beautiful out-of-doors was a great lesson-book to her. Riding Babieca, tagging after the boys, sun-tanned and rosy, she grew strong and hearty, and was never so happy as when allowed to go with her brother and Antonio. Generally they took very good care of her, and her mother felt that she was safe with the two boys. Fernando teased her a good deal, but Antonio was of a calmer mood, and was always her gentle knight.

All manner of games were played by these happy children, who, with their little neighbours of the nearest hacienda, made a merry group. They were simple-hearted little folk, and the boys had not reached the state described in the old Spanish rhyme of the boys of Madrid:

 
"They should be romping with us,
For they are only children yet;
But they will not play at anything
Except a cigarette.
No plays will cheer the Prado
In future times, for then
The little boys of seven
Will all be married men."
 

Fernando, and even the graver Antonio, entered into all the childish sports with the rest, and an especial favourite was a play very much like our "London Bridge is Falling Down," called the "Gate of Alcala." Two children are chosen to head the lines, and called Rose and Pink. They form an arch with their arms held up and their fingers locked, and under this the other children pass headed by the mother. They sing gaily a little dialogue:

 
Rose and Pink. "To the viper of love that hides in the flowers
The only way lies here."
Mother. "Then here I pass and leave behind
One little daughter dear."
Rose and Pink. "Shall the first one or the last
Be captive of our chain?"
Mother. "Oh, the first one runs so lightly,
The last one shall remain."
Chorus. "Pass on, oho, pass on, aha!
By the Gate of Alcala."
 

The last child, with squeals of delight, is caught in the falling arms, and chooses whether she shall follow Rose or Pink, taking her place behind the one of her choice. When all have been chosen, there is a grand tug of war, the merry party singing, meantime.

 
Rose and Pink. "Let the young mind make its choice,
As young minds chance to think;
Now is Rose your leader,
Or go you with the Pink?
Let the young mind make its choice
By laws the young heart knows.
Now is Pink your leader
Or go you with the Rose?"
Chorus. "Pass on, oho, pass on, aha,
By the Gates of Alcala."
 

The boys enjoyed playing soldier, and would whittle toy swords out of sticks, and form in line, marching and singing:

 
"The Catalans are coming,
Marching two by two;
All who hear their drumming,
Tiptoe for a view,
Aye, aye, tiptoe for a view;
Red and yellow banners,
Pennies very few.
Aye, aye, pennies very few.
 
 
"Red and yellow banners
The moon comes out to see;
If moons had better manners
She'd take me on her knee.
Aye, aye, she'd take me on her knee.
She peeps through purple shutters;
Would I were tall as she.
Aye, aye, would I were tall as she.
 
 
"Soldiers need not learn letters
Nor any schooly thing;
But, unless they mind their betters,
In golden chains they swing.
Aye, aye, in golden chains they'll swing.
Or sit in silver fetters,
Presents from the king.
Aye, aye, presents from the king."
 

The prettiest of all the games is that of the "Little White Pigeons," which all Andalusian children love to play. The little companions form in two rows, and, facing each other, dance forward and slip beneath the upraised arms of the opposite side. Thus they pass under the "Silver Arches" to Sevilla and Granada:

 
"Little white pigeons are dreaming of Seville,
Sun in the palm-trees, rose and revel.
Lift up the arches, gold as the weather,
Little white pigeons come flying together.
 
 
"Little white pigeons, dream of Granada,
Glistening snows on Sierra Nevada.
Lift up the arches, silver as fountains,
Little white pigeons fly to the mountains."
 

Our little Spanish cousins play nearly all the same games that American children play, only their "Blind Man's Buff" is called "Blind Hen," and "Pussy Wants a Corner," is called "Cottage to Rent," and played with the rhyme:

 
"Cottage to rent, try the other side,
You see this one is occupied."
 

Their game of tag is called the "Moon and the Morning Stars," and is played by one child being chosen as the Moon and forced to keep within the shadow. The rest of the children, being Morning Stars, are safe only where it is light. If the Moon can catch a Star in the shadow, the Star must become a Moon, and as the Stars scamper in and out of the shadow, all sing:

 
"O the Moon and the Morning Stars,
O the Moon and the Morning Stars,
Who dares to tread – oh
Within the shadow."
 

"Hide and Seek" the children played, and "Forfeits," and all manner of other games, and as the sun nearly always shines in Andalusia, the summer was one long merry round of out-of-door fun.