Not long afterward, John Joseph went with his mule for a load of pears to Ronda. He found that from there he could go without much difficulty to the Christian camp in Africa. "Why, then," he said to himself, "I can sell my pears there as well as in Jerez or Malaga; there I will go, then; in that way I shall see my boys and the fighting that is going on, which will be something worth seeing." And so he went.  
Catherine and Maria were far from suspecting anything of this when, six or eight days later, John Joseph returned home. After he had taken the mule to the stable and put away his things with much deliberation, he sat down and said to his wife and daughter:
 
"The boys send many remembrances, and hope that when you receive them you will be enjoying as good health as they are enjoying at present."
 
"Why, what are you saying, John Joseph?"
 
"I am saying that the boys have sent you many remembrances."
 
"Have you had a letter from them?"
 
"No, I am the letter myself."
 
"You! Why, what do you mean by that?"
 
"That I went to Morocco and have come back again without losing my way, with my mule Orejero, who showed little surprise when, on arriving in that strange country, we found ourselves in the midst of noise and confusion— Moors everywhere, bands playing, guns firing."
 
"Holy Mary! And what did you go there for, rash man?"
 
"To sell some pears that I got an excellent price for; to see the boys, whom I found in good health and as gay as larks; and to kill three Moors who will never again call any Spaniard 'Christian dog.' So you see, wife, that I have not lost my journey."
 
"And you did that? God help us! God help us!" cried the good woman, crossing herself. "You killed three Moors, did you say? You would not have been able to do that unless they had been unarmed, or had been taken prisoners, or had surrendered; and you did that?"
 
"Maria, what are you saying?" responded her husband. "Don't you know that to kill an unarmed man would be contrary to the laws of honor and the work of an executioner? Don't you know that to kill a man who had surrendered would be a vile deed and would be to make one's self a butcher of men? Don't you know that to kill a man who asks quarter would be the deed of a miscreant and a coward, and would disgrace the name of Christian and dishonor the name of Spaniard? In honorable combat I killed them, Maria, when with arms in their hands they tried to kill me and my companions. I know well that the glory is not in killing but in conquering the enemy, and I wouldn't want at the hour of my death to have to remember killing any man by treachery. I tell you, so help me God, that I killed them honorably, like a brave man, and may they all die thus, for they won't surrender, not even with the bayonet at their breasts."
 
"Mercy!" cried Maria, "and why not?"
 
"Because their holy men have made them believe that the Spaniards are as ferocious as themselves, and that we burn alive the wounded and the prisoners we take. You thought that only young chaps were good for the war, and that I, with my sixty-five years, would be of no use in it; well, you were mistaken, you see, you were mistaken, for I am of good quality, and although the steel is worn off, the non remains. Do you understand? And I am a brave soldier, but not an assassin, do you understand?"
 
"Forgive me, John Joseph, I didn't stop to think—"
 
"It is plain you didn't stop to think; and you didn't remember, either, that your husband is a Christian of the old stock, and a well-born Spaniard, and that he knows how to fight the enemies of his faith, of his country, and of his queen; but that he will never dishonor himself by killing a defenceless man, nor debase himself by putting to death a man who has surrendered, nor make a tiger of himself by refusing his life to a man who asks it, not even if he were Barabbas himself."
 
"Were ours winning, John Joseph?"
 
"To be sure they were. Winning all the time, past, present, and future."
 
"But I have heard them say that a great many more Moors are coming, with a brother of their king, whom they call Muley Abbas."
 
"Let them come! That is just what we want; but don't imagine that those Moors that are with the king are like the Riff Moors, who are the most savage and the fiercest of all the Moors. But all of them together could do nothing against the division of Echague, which has covered itself with glory in the war. Queen Isabel may well be proud of her soldiers. But as I was telling you, when I arrived at Algeciras I embarked with my mule and my pears; and you know that I have no fancy for travelling by sea; for the mule that falls on that road doesn't get up again. I landed at Ceuta and from there I went with my mule and my pears to the camp; and when I saw the flag of Spain floating over the Serrallo, my heart swelled so that my breast could hardly contain it. I reached the camp and sold my pears like lightning, for there is no want of money there, nor of the will to spend it. What a hubbub, Maria! It seemed like the gayest kind of a fair; nothing was to be heard but the twang of guitars, singing, and hurrahs for the queen. I need only tell you that the commander-in-chief has had to forbid so much singing and guitar playing at night, because it served as a guide to the accursed Moors. I was just inquiring for the King's regiment, when the bugle sounded, our soldiers seized their guns, crying, 'Long live Spain!' and advanced to the attack. I left my mule there and followed them; and you may believe me that the sight was worth seeing, and one that would have set the blood coursing in a dead man's veins. Each of our soldiers was a Bernardo, every officer a Pizarro, every general a Cid. One might have thought that Santiago himself, on his white horse, was at the head of the army, so completely did they rout the Moors, who are all warriors, and who were three times as many as we. I could not tell you all I saw, not if I had a hundred tongues. I saw General Quesada seize a gun and lead the bayonet charge himself. 'Ah, brave son of a brave father!' I said to myself; for I had served under his father, and he was another of the right kind. But why do I say another, when they are all of the right kind! I saw the bullets flying over the head of the commander-in-chief, as thick as comfits in Carnival. I saw the regiment of Granada, with its valiant commander, Colonel Trillo, at its head, make a bayonet charge crying, 'Long live the Queen!' that made the Moors fly in terror from the field; and I heard the commander-in-chief say to the colonel, that that exploit deserved a decoration; to which the generous colonel replied: 'Nothing for me, General, the credit belongs............