Here, then, we have, face to face and alone, Uncle Juan Gomez and the stranger.

 

"What is your name?" the former asked the latter, with all the imperiousness warranted by his exalted¹ office, and without inviting² him to be seated.

 

"My name is Jaime Olot," responded the mysterious stranger.

 

"You do not speak like a native of this country. Are you English?"

 

"I am a Catalan."

 

"Ah, a Catalan! That may be. And what brings you to these parts? And, above all, what the devil were you doing yesterday measuring my tower?"

 

"I will tell you. I am a miner by profession, and I have come to this country, which is famous for its copper³ and silver mines, in search of work. Yesterday afternoon, passing by the Moor⁴'s Tower, I saw that a wall was being built with the stones that had been taken from it, and that it would be necessary to tear down a great deal more of the building in order to finish the wall. There is no one who can equal me in pulling down buildings, whether by the use of tools or with hands only, for I have the strength of an ox, and the idea occurred to me that I might be able to make a contract with the owner of the tower to pull it down and dig up the foundation stones."

 

Uncle Hormiga, with a wink⁵ of his little gray eyes, responded, dwelling⁶ upon every word:

 

"Well, that arrangement does not suit me."

 

"I would do the work for very little—almost nothing."

 

"Now it would suit me less than before."

 

The so-called Jaime Olot was puzzled not a little by the mysterious answers of Uncle Juan Gomez, and he tried to get some clue to their meaning from the expression of his face; but as he was unsuccessful in his efforts to read the fox-like

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