"This is water enough for to-day," Jose said at last. "Will you drive the oxen to the yard? I must help Joanna." And off the boy ran.
Joanna, with a boat-shaped basket of clothes upon her head, had just gone to the stream beyond the barn, near the wood-lane entrance to the farm. She waded out into the stream, above her ankles, and took the clothes which Jose handed to her, washing out one piece after another in the running water.
When this task was done, busy Jose hurried back to join Antonio, who had begun to gather grapes. For an hour they worked, filling and emptying other boat-shaped baskets, till the sun was high overhead.
"We will tread the grapes toward night, Jose," Antonio said, when Joanna called them to dinner.
At the noon-day meal they ate brôa—bread—dipped in olive oil, a little dried fish, oranges and figs.
After dinner, in the heat of the day, Antonio went out to a rocky corner of the farm and lay down in the cool shade. Jose brought along his engine and cars. It was the first chance he had found to-day to play with them. And until Antonio grew too sleepy, he told Jose about real trains and railroads.
Oh, it was good to be free, good to be in the shade of the trees, to look off over the hills and dream of the cities and the people beyond!
Antonio fell asleep, thinking these thoughts. When he awoke, Jose was drawing the train of cars by the pink string, back and forth. A far-away strain of music sounded upon the air.
"Have you learned yet to play the flute or violin, Jose?" Antonio asked.
"Yes, Antonio, I can play the violin a little."
"Run to the house, bring both violin and flute. You can play the one, and I will see if I have forgotten what I knew about the other."
Away sped Jose. Returning, he gave Antonio the flute, keeping the violin. Then for an hour the brothers played, not by note but by ear, the simple, sweet melodies of the country-side. The Portuguese people are lovers of music as of flowers. Each farmer, peasant, shepherd and charcoal-burner has his guitar or violin, his pipe or flute.
Jose's violin notes were true and liquid. The old violin—it had been his grandfather's—was rich-toned. Presently Antonio laid aside the flute and listened to the little brother's playing.
Jose and Antonio, Malfada and Joanna worked side by side those busy days of the next two weeks. They gathered and trod the grapes. They cut and carried through the threshing-floor great sheaves of maize and of bean-stalks, leaving them to dry there in readiness for the threshing. The girls were active and willing, strong and cheerful. Both girls and boys worked with the eager purpose of helping the invalid father and the mother so wearied with constant care of the sick man and the young child.
After the grapes were gathered, and the maize and beans harvested, the hard work was over for a time. The gourds and watermelons, which had been planted between the rows of maize and beans, now open to the sunshine, were gaining in mellow color.
There was some free time for the Almaida family in the afternoons of these October days. Jose drew his engine and cars back and forth on the terrace, Carlos barking after him. Sometimes Jose played with Malfada around the water-works, and swam oranges in the streams still running from the endless chain of buckets. The mother and Joanna worked in the flower garden. Antonio wandered off on the hillside with his flute.
At the maize-husking season in Portugal there is many a gay assembly. The threshing-floor is the social gathering-place for old and young. Antonio, Joanna, Malfada and even little Jose had already been to the Decamisadas, or husking, on neighboring farms, when the work and the dancing had lasted until late into the evening. Now Antonio had, in turn, invited their neighbors to a maize-husking.
On the afternoon set, eager troops of men and boys, most of them carrying some musical instrument, came in holiday costume of homespun trousers, white linen shirt with a large gold or silver stud at the neck, a red sash bound around the waist, broadcloth or homespun cloak hung over one shoulder, and newest hat of black felt or cap of knitted yarn. Eager troops of girls came also, in full short skirts, in bodices of dark red or yellow worn over white waists, the large sleeves newly starched and ironed. Each girl had a gay-colored cotton or silk kerchief over her shoulders, and almost every one wore handsome filigree gold earrings.
Jose's mother was dressed in the same kind of costume, except that her kerchief was of soft dark red silk; and she wore her chief treasure, a heavy gold chain and cross.
That afternoon, for the first time since his illness, Senhor Almaida sat out on the porch in his arm-chair, his best broadcloth cloak wrapped about him. In the excitement of the family preparation for the Decamisadas, he had moved his right hand slightly. How the mother and the children rejoiced in this sign of returning strength!
The husking went on merrily. Skilful fingers made quick work. Gossip and song filled the air with busy hum. At times one or two of the men left off work, upon Antonio's asking, and for a half hour played familiar tunes on flute, guitar, violin or pipe.
Toward sunset, when the sky was all aglow with red light, the mother, Joanna and Malfada brought out the supper of brôa, dried fish and preserved fruits. The large platters were piled high with the food, and there was plenty more in the house. The workers had hearty appetites, and each took a cupful of the fresh-pressed grape-juice which Antonio passed around.
The round harvest moon rose just at sunset. In the red-silver glow of twilight and moonlight, the cheerful workers began their tasks again. After an hour more, the husking was finished. A huge heap of golden ears gleamed in the centre of the threshing-floor. Willing hands carried these off to the barn. The threshing-floor was cleared of maize-stalks and chaff. All was ready for dancing.
First the young men and maidens formed a circle and went round and round in a merry jig. Then they danced, in groups, the bolero, a dance slow and firm in motion, with well-marked time. This was followed by a lively reel.
As the music grew louder, little Jose dared to join in with his beloved violin.
Then singing burst forth to the music, players and dancers taking part in the simple country-side melodies, until, warm and breathless, the dancers drew back to the edges of the threshing-floor. And now they began eagerly calling upon Inez Castillo for the dance she did so well.
Eighteen-year-old Inez Castillo had stood aside while the others danced. She did not like so much romping. But now she stepped forward good-naturedly at their request. Her deep black eyes glowed with the lustre of health. There was a ripe red flush upon her cheeks, an expression of gentle modesty upon face and figure.
"You play for me, Jose, you alone, please," the girl asked. She knew how perfectly in tune and in time Jose's music was.
Steadily, but rather low at first, the boy began to play. Steadily and gracefully Inez danced forth, her silver bracelets tinkling upon her wrists. Her arms and body moved in perfect time. She was a picture of youth, beauty and grace.
Jose did not think about the people listening as he drew his bow back and forth. He thought only of making his music as true as possible for Inez,—Inez who had given him his dear dog-friend Carlos.
Antonio leaned against the stone wall of the barn, watching the face of his music-loving little brother. "I must try to let the lad have some music-training," he said to himself. He watched, too, the modest, graceful dancing of Inez; and he decided that however interesting far-away America had been, his own fatherland was a goodly country.
The father was better. He could move the weak hand and foot, although he was not yet able to use them. But he could sit all day in the arm-chair on the porch. From there he was able to direct the late autumn work. This was fortunate. Antonio had half forgotten what needed to be done, and Jose did not yet know much about it.
The mother's face had brightened. She did the work of the household and cared for Tareja with a thankful heart. Joanna and Malfada were again busy all day out of doors in the field with their brothers.
Now the winter's supply of gourds, left among the stubble of maize-stalks, had grown very large and yellow. There were two kinds of gourds,—one, smooth and round, the other, long and striped. These were gathered and lifted, some to the low roof of the barn, others to the top of the rocky ledge, where they would not have to stand in the wet after the autumn rains began. The melons, also, were gathered and stored in the same way. Upon these places, gourds and melons would keep sound until February. All through the winter the better ones would be valuable food for the family, while the coarser ones would be used for cattle and pig.
There was a good supply of cabbage in the garden for the winter's house-use and for feeding the live stock. Sown late in the summer, the cabbage had grown to four or five feet in height. Its lower leaves would be picked off, week after week, then the stalks cut down in the spring to make room for other crops.
Twice Jose went with Antonio to the wild lands of the remote hillside, and loaded upon the ox-cart gorse, heather, bracken and wild grass as winter stabling for the cattle. This they cut or scraped together with broad-bladed hoes,—simple tools made of a flat piece of iron shaped like a spade and fastened upon a handle. Jose's hoe-handle was so long that he had very hard work to manage it. But he bravely kept on, no matter how his arms and back ached during those early November days.
It would soon be time to plough the stubble and to sow the winter barley, rye and wheat, the flax, and the maize for cattle feed.
"We will take a holiday, Jose, before we begin this new work. Where would you like to go?" Antonio asked, as they walked homeward from the wild-land by the side of the oxen. Carlos ran ahead on the wood-road, sniffing the fresh air.
"I would like best to go up to the hill-top, where we can look off and see Guimarães and the old ruined Roman city, Citania."
"We will go to-morrow. You have earned a holiday, and the up-hill walk will straighten your shoulders. The hoeing has made you bend over like a little old man."
The next morning's work of caring for the live-stock was done early. Each with a lunch-basket, and a cloak hung over one shoulder, the two brothers set forth, followed by Carlos, and watched out of sight by the family on the front porch.
They found the mossy old foot-path which led from the main road up the hill. Pine needles made the rocks here and there as slippery as glass. But tufts of tall, stout grass along the path served as a help in climbing.
The sky overhead was deepest blue. Through the trunks of trees on both sides of the path they could see many a maize-field yellow with stubble, and many a vineyard with brilliant bronze leaves.
The trees were very beautiful. Here was the straight trunk of a eucalyptus "tall as the mast of some great admiral;" here was a cork-tree with a rich, brown velvet-like trunk, and here a gum-tree, its long drooping leaves of russet, red and orange showing like jewels against the slender, dark trunk.
There were seats for the weary built against the trees along the way. Once in a while the brothers stopped to rest. And at the noon hour they ate their luncheon, Jose sitting at Antonio's feet, and giving a large part of his own share to the dog.
By early afternoon they came to the rocky crag of the hill. A humble hermitage stood upon the outer edge of this great rock. Near the hermitage a gilded cross was built upon a broad pillar of piled stones,—the work of some long-ago, shoeless Carmelite or Trappist monk. The hermitage was deserted now, but the palms and ferns around it were rich in beauty. Antonio, who had read much about his country's history, told Jose that all these green growing things had been planted and tended with loving care by the devout monks who had taken on themselves the vows of poverty and of silence.
Antonio and Jose lay down upon the soft, fine grass, under a tall palm-tree, and looked out over the wide view which the rocky crag gave. The mole-crickets made a soft churr-churring sound around them. Blackbirds in the tree-tops gave shrill, crowing calls. From hilly pastures, shepherds among their sheep sang in rivalry with one another.
For a long time the brothers were silent. The beauty of the scene almost took away speech. On all sides were purple hills and upon every hill-top stood a hermitage or shrine with a shining cross above it. Far away rose the giant peak of the Penha, a mountain covered with green up the greater part of its height, then bare granite to its top.
Antonio pointed to the southeast: "There on the plain, is Guimarães, with its many roofs and chimneys; and, look, there is the smoke of a railroad train."
"Will you take me there some time, Antonio, so that I can see a real train of cars?"
"Yes, Jose, we will go there on our next long holiday. Now look over yonder. Half way up the hill do you see some rows of stone wall?"
"Yes, Antonio."
"There lies the old fortress city, built by the Romans more than a hundred years before Christ was born. It is called Citania now, and it is in ruins. Some day you will read about it in a book of history."
Jose sighed as he said: "I fear it will be a long, long time before I can read a book. I can only spell out a few words now,—not much more than I wrote on the post-card to you."
"Would you like to go to school this winter, Jose?"
"Oh, how I should like it,—more than anything else in all the world! But there is no school, and if there was one, I could not leave the farm-work to go to it."
"There is to be a free primary school opened this winter, with a good teacher, in our village where we go on market-days. I want you to attend the school, Jose."
"But who will do the work at home, Antonio? You will soon go back to America, I think." Jose never forgot, even in the joy of having Antonio at home, that this big brother might soon go away again.
Antonio was silent a long time. Then he said slowly, looking off to the far Penha Mountain: "Jose, how would you feel if I told you I will stay at home?"
"I should be very happy, oh, so happy, brother."
"Well, Jose, I have decided to stay."
Jose raised himself upon his elbow and looked eagerly into Antonio's face: "Do you really mean it?" he asked.
"Yes, Jose."
"Then I can go to school, and learn as much as you know?"
Antonio laughed a little sadly: "It is not very much that I know, from books. Most of the small amount I know is what I have learned from men and things in America, and from the newspapers. But I will study in the evenings this winter. I would rather have an education than be a millionaire. There was a school in the village when I was your age. The new school will be better than that."
"Why will it be better, Antonio?" Jose asked. He knew nothing of schools except that they were places where children could learn to read from books.
"We had old, dull books to study, and we had to wait, all in one class, until every boy and every girl had learned the lesson. But Senhor Castillo has told me that in the new school there will be new books, and there will be more than one class, so that the boys and girls who are quickest to learn can go ahead of the others."
"I am afraid I shall not be quickest to learn, Antonio."
"Try as hard as you can, Jose. Then, in the future, perhaps you will be one of the rulers of Portugal. The time is coming in this country when education will mean power."
Jose listened with close attention. And although he could not understand Antonio's words, he remembered them. A moment later he asked: "May I be the one to tell the family that you will stay at home with us, Antonio? I know the father and mother have felt very anxious about this."
"Yes, Jose, you may tell them this evening. Now take a last look toward Guimarães. We must start for home. It is nearly the sunset hour, and darkness will soon follow. The path is so steep that we need light to tread it."
What joy in the home when Jose that evening, after the late supper, told the good news! How they crowded around Antonio, clapping him on the shoulders! With what glee did Joanna bring out preserved fruits and sweet cakes for them to eat as they drew their chairs around the hearth!
"We will have many a happy winter evening together;" the father spoke with a new courage shining in his eyes. "The doctor you sent for, Antonio, came to-day while you and Jose were away. He told me that if I rest this winter, free from care, I shall have full use of my right hand and foot again. Your taking the care from me will be what saves me, Antonio."
"I can do more than keep you from care, father. I saved money while I was away, and have over two hundred dollars now, even after paying my passage home. I will spend some of this money to make the farm better."
This was the first time Antonio had spoken of his savings. He had kept silent until he could decide as to whether or not he would go back to America.
"You are a rich man, my son." A look of pride shone in the father's eyes as he spoke.
"You deserve it, Antonio. You are a good son," the mother said, as she wiped happy tears from her eyes.
Indeed this seemed to the whole family a very great fortune. Even Senhor Castillo was not worth more than five hundred dollars, and he was the wealthiest man for miles around.
"I will buy a new plough and some new tools. We shall soon have enough better crops to more than pay for this spending. When you are well again, father, there will be two men of us to work instead of one."
"And what about Jose?" The father put his left hand upon the little boy's shoulder. Jose was kneeling beside him, roasting chestnuts on the hearth.
"I am going to school this winter, Antonio says." Jose looked up with a happy face.
"A school term will begin early in January, at the village. Jose can go for the sixteen weeks; he is strong enough to walk there and back, I think," said Antonio.
"Sometimes can I go, too?" Malfada asked, tossing back her thick black hair.
"Yes, little one, you can go with Jose, that is the best plan. Then you can help each other with your lessons," the father said quickly.
Soon the winter began. The dull weather with heavy rains lasted two or three weeks. In this Portuguese country, autumn meets winter with pouring rain and with strong winds, which break down almost everything in the gardens and which cover gardens and fields with wet leaves and long sprays of vine.
During these days Antonio and Jose wore about the farm-work curious coats made of several layers of dried grass. These were some protection against rain and wind. But there was not much work to be done until the heavy storms should cease.
In late November the sun came forth brightly. It was time to plough the stubble fields.
The only plough Jose had ever seen until now, was one made of a crooked branch of hardwood tree, shod with iron,—of the same pattern as the plough used by the Romans two thousand years ago. It was a plough so light in weight that after the day's work was done, the man lifted it from the ground and hung it over the yoke of the ox.
This old kind of plough was drawn by one ox, and it stirred the soil only six or seven inches deep. The new plough—which Antonio brought home one day behind the oxen—turned a deep straight furrow in the light crumbling soil.
The old harrow, to level the ground after the ploughing, was made of fifteen or twenty teeth of iron set into a wooden framework. The new harrow which Antonio bought had many strong, close-set teeth.
Jose had followed after the plough with great delight, to watch its working. Now, when Antonio let him ride on the harrow-seat, the boy kept his head turned back most of the way, in order that he might see the ploughed land grow level under the harrow's teeth.
"Surely our crops will be doubled next season—twice as large as ever before—because the ground is so well-prepared," the father said each day as he watched the work from the doorway. He seemed to gain in strength daily, even during this dullest season of the year. It was hard, though, for him to be unable to help, for there was much work to be done.
Jose was given the sowing of the winter wheat and rye, and of the maize for the winter food of the cattle. Antonio pruned the grape-vines and cut off the tops of the trees on which the vines hung. Soon the maize shot up, and the young stalks had to be cut, morning and night.
Jose stayed around the house all one market-day afternoon, taking care of little Tareja and being company for his father, while the mother, Joanna and Malfada went to the village with Antonio. Malfada dangled the silver-link bag from her wrist, just as Antonio knew she would; and she brought back home in it a little boxful of candies for Jose. It was a great day for them all.
There were long, pleasant evenings, for Portuguese families stay at home together instead of going to their neighbors for amusement. Jose played softly on his violin. The mother, Joanna and Malfada sewed or embroidered. Antonio read aloud from some book, or oftener from a newspaper he had bought on the weekly market-day and which gave news of the nation's progress. Sometimes, but not often, he went out with his flute; and then the family knew that he had gone to serenade Inez Castillo.
Swiftly the days passed. Soon came Natal—Christmas—the great holiday of the year. On this day and on New Year's, there were fireworks and decorations at each farmhouse, singing, and visits back and forth.
Daily between Christmas and New Year's the Almaida family ate bôlos de bacalhau, and rebanadas,—thick slices of brôa soaked in new milk, fried in olive oil and spread with honey. Rebanadas is the special holiday food for Christmas and New Year's. The red tomato salt-cellar was used at table on each of these days.
The holidays from farm-work lasted up to the Feast of the Epiphany, January 6th. On the day after, the school in the village opened.
Five days each week Jose and Malfada walked barefoot the three miles in the early morning, returning in the dusk of the mild winter day. The walk was very tiring sometimes. It was fortunate that both children were strong, and used to being much on their feet.
At first Carlos wanted to go with them. But soon he seemed to understand that he was not to be allowed to take these morning walks. On each school-day, however, at four o'clock, he would begin watching for the children, and the moment he caught sight of them coming along the wood-lane, he dashed off at top speed to meet them.
The old parrot was very funny these days. So much going and coming confused him. In the mornings when Jose and Malfada went away he called out Accolade—welcome, and in the afternoons, when they returned, à deus—good-by. These were the only words he knew; Jose had tried in vain to teach him other words, just as Antonio had tried when a little boy.
"The parrot is growing very old; he is losing his sense," the mother said one day when the bird greeted the children on their return from school with à deus! à deus! à deus!
"Oh no, mother; I am sure he thinks it is a joke, just as we do," Jose said, very earnestly.
On the Saturday holiday Jose worked from dawn till dark, helping Antonio. The vine-pruning and tying did not end until February. Jose learned to tie the vine branches skilfully to the trees, leaving room for the vines to grow and not be hurt by the cord. In February, March and April came the sowing for the crops of the summer and autumn.
The sixteen weeks' term of school ended in April. Jose had been put into the class of the quickest learners. He had gone rapidly ahead of Malfada, who, although three years older, stayed in the lower class.
Jose had been eager over his books,—far more eager than Malfada. But he ran almost all the way home, and reaching there long before she did, put away his books gladly. The school-room, with its crowd of boys and girls, had seemed hot and dusty those days when the outside world was growing so beautiful.
Antonio was out in the field, planting cabbages, when Jose hurried toward him calling: "No more school, Antonio, no more school now."
Antonio straightened back his shoulders and asked: "Is this the boy who wanted so much to go to school?"
Jose's face turned very red under its tan. But when he saw the teasing look in Antonio's eyes, he laughed and said: "It is good to have spring come after winter, so I think it is good to change from going to school to not going. Besides, the teacher says there will be a ten weeks' term next autumn."
"Spring unlocks the flowers, so the spring should let children come out of doors," said Antonio. "There will be some hard work for you, Jose, but never mind!"
"Never mind," repeated Jose, racing back to the house with Carlos at his heels.
The hills were sweet with the air of spring. Down their sides ran rills of water, foaming with golden light. The fresh grass of the fields was carpeted with flowers. The young vine-shoots were full of tender, pale green leaves.
Lemon and orange trees shone with white blossoms. The elder, lotus, and shining-leaved magnolia showed almost more white than green. The pomegranate held forth fiery red blossoms. The olive-tree, with its stunted growth and its gray-green leaves, glowed all day long with a beautiful silver color under the bright sunshine. In the flower-garden, roses, geraniums and heliotrope were a-bloom.
Crops were growing wonderfully. The effects of the deep ploughing already showed in the stronger maize-stalks, the more abundant bean pods and the well-started vegetables.
"The fourth leaf-spike has appeared on the maize: it is time for the hoeing," said the father. He could walk now, slowly, with the aid of a stout cane, as far as the field.
It was easy for Jose to work with the new short-handled hoe Antonio had bought for him. Yet at the end of the day his arms and wrists were so tired that he could scarcely draw the bow across the violin. Many an evening the bow dropped from his hand as he fell asleep, heavy-eyed after being all day in the open air.
As soon as the young maize-stalks were strong enough to stand the flow of water, the oxen were set to work at the nora and streams of water began running down through the fields. The dry season had commenced. There was day after day of bright, unclouded sunshine.
Then came the thinning of the crops, to make the strong stalks grow stronger, and to give food for the cattle.
Working with his bare feet two or three inches deep in the warm, moist soil, Jose felt as if he were a part of this great, growing, beautiful world. The strength of the earth seemed to come into him with the air he breathed. He was taller and more sturdy: he no longer looked like the slim slip of a boy of six or seven months ago.
Early in June the crops had grown to their limit. Their turning to a yellow color showed the ripening. It would soon be time for cutting down the first crop of barley, oats, rye and wheat, and to make ready for a second sowing. The flax had already been taken up, and had been steeped or soaked in water for more than a week. Now, well-dried in the sun, it must be broken and scutched by hand, or taken to some mill to be finally made ready for spinning.
Antonio decided that he would carry the flax to Guimarães, where there were good mills, instead of having his mother and sisters do the work at home. Besides, he wanted to buy some new seeds for the second sowing.
"Would you like to take a holiday with me to-morrow?" he asked Jose on the evening before St. Antonio's day.
"Yes. Where? To Guimarães?" Jose replied quickly.
"How did you guess, little brother?"
"Because last autumn, when we went on a holiday, you said you would take me to Guimarães when we went away again."
"We will start early to-morrow. We will take the oxen, because I am going to carry the flax to the mill."
"It is good to have the holiday on St. Antonio's day. Because you have that name, the day should be your holiday, Antonio."
For the first time in all his life, Jose was to see Guimarães, the old city where Portugal's hero king, Affonso Henriquez, was born in 1109, the great warrior who made of Portugal a united country.
On the morning of St. Antonio's day, the thirteenth of June, the family was up early to eat with Antonio and Jose the holiday breakfast of estofado—stewed meat and vegetables. At six o'clock they gathered on the wide stone doorstep to see the brothers start. Carlos lay at the edge of the step, his nose upon his paws, waiting, both eyes fixed upon Jose. The dog knew that some unusual journey was planned; he was all ready to go, too.
But Carlos could not go. This was Jose's only regret at starting. "He would be frightened and perhaps lost in the city," Antonio said. So the dog was held back by Joanna, and he decided, in his dog way, that Jose must be going off to school again. The parrot's cries of Accolade! Accolade! followed the brothers until they were beyond reach of the sound.
It was a glorious June morning. Although so early, the sun was even now high in the blue heavens. The air was fragrant with sweet flower perfumes. Many small brown and yellow butterflies fluttered along the roadside. Large gray sand-lizards ran out from the underbrush. Meadow-larks and blackbirds sang in every tree-top.
All beyond the village market-place was new to Jose. The road grew constantly better. Soon above the pine forests appeared the granite peak of Penha. On the approach to Guimarães, the ground rises and pine forests spread around the city for miles. In that wild country, Affonso Henriquez first learned the art of war, and in his very boyhood became the trusted leader of his troops.
As the brothers drew nearer, they saw the gentle hill on which stand the walls of the old castle, still keeping watch over the city which lies beneath. It is impossible to imagine a ruin more stately than that of this grand old castle of the Middle Ages, the first Christian fortress in Portugal,—a castle-fortress which tells the story of the strong spirit of the race of men who built it. The huge granite blocks, each taller than a man, which form the battlements, still stand erect and immovable.
On the road, as the brothers drew yet nearer, were many other travellers, like themselves bound for the city. It was market-day as well as the holiday of St. Antonio. There were men and women, boys and girls, in gala-day costume. Sometimes the women and girls were driving donkeys, pannier-laden. But oftenest, these women-folk had baskets, heavily filled, upon their heads; in Portugal women carry everything in baskets, from babies to bales of goods. There were herdsmen on the way, driving flocks of goats. Groups of children walked soberly along with their parents. Now and then a beggar asked Antonio for a bit of money; but Portugal has few beggars compared with its neighboring country, Spain.
The crowd of holiday-makers grew. Jose climbed into the ox-cart, because he could see more and because the long walk and the unusual excitement were making him feel rather tired. Most of the travellers passed on ahead, for the oxen, pulling their load up-hill, made slow progress. But Jose did not mind this. The music of a brass band was coming to his ears. He had to ask Antonio what it was; he had never before heard a band.
Guimarães is a delightful old city. Even people who have travelled much more than Jose think so. It is full of picturesque buildings. There are many houses with balconies and windows of fine wood-carving. Several of the streets are hardly more than narrow alleys, and the eaves of the houses all but meet overhead. Some of the wider streets end in wonderful views of the hills, seen across fields brilliant green with rye and clover. And there is a beautiful old granite cathedral church.
Jose had never seen anything so marvellous as this building. In its graceful granite belfry tower the peal of eight bells was ringing out the hour of ten as the oxen moved slowly past, along the crowded street. But Jose hardly noticed the people: he was looking up, full of eager curiosity, at the strange heads and faces, half like men, half like animals,—the gargoyles carved on church and tower.
"Take me to see the cars and the railroad first of all, please, Antonio," had been Jose's request, made over and over again that morning on the way.
So, to please the little brother, Antonio drove the oxen directly to the railway station. By good fortune they were just in time to see the arrival of a long passenger train. Jose was almost terrified by the rushing in of the tall black engine with its smoke and noise. The cars, with their seats and windows and curtains, seemed to him like strange little homes.
Many a traveller turned to gaze with interest at the earnest-faced, black-eyed boy and the handsome, strong-looking brother, with the fresh color of the country upon their faces.
A little girl dressed in white stepped from the cars, holding fast to her mother's hand. "See, Antonio," Jose cried out in a voice so loud that everyone around heard: "See, she looks just like Tareja's doll!" As the mother and little girl passed, they smiled with friendly blue eyes at the brothers.
After the passenger train moved out of the station, a puffing freight engine went back and forth, shifting and changing about many long, box-like looking freight cars. Presently the cars were all in place, and the puffy engine pulled them slowly away.
Jose would have stayed all day at the station, waiting for other trains to come and go. His eyes were not yet satisfied. But Antonio had many other things to do. When they finally turned away, Jose looked back as long as the station remained in sight. He soon, however, grew interested in seeing other sights.
To Antonio, Guimarães seemed very old-fashioned and slow, compared with the busy American cities of the same size which he had seen. But to Jose everything was new and wonderful,—so many people, such tall buildings, such beautiful things in the shop windows, so much noise.
Everywhere on the corners of the quaint, crowded streets groups of men were talking about the new government, and curious small boys were listening at the edges of the crowds. Jose wanted to stop long enough to hear what was being said; but Antonio urged the oxen on toward the mill. Processions of young men marched through the streets to the music of flutes, pipes, and drums. On many a street the statue figure of St. Antonio, in a shrine, was decorated with flowers and garlands of leaves. Around bonfires in the city square young people were dancing.
When they reached the mill, Antonio fastened the oxen at the corner of a near-by side street. Jose helped carry the flax into the mill, but he hurried back to take his seat in the ox-cart: he liked this better even than staying in the mill.
A red, whizzing machine which Jose knew at once, from descriptions Antonio had given him, was an automobile—came rushing through the narrow street. The frightened oxen pulled so hard at the chain that Jose thought they would break it and run away. He jumped down, and, in his effort to quiet the oxen, lost the chance really to see the darting red machine. But he saw other automobiles, by and by.
From the mill Antonio went to a neighboring shop to buy the seeds he wanted for the second crop planting. This took a long time. Just as he came back, the sweet-toned bells of the cathedral tower were chiming out one o'clock. He guided the oxen to the end of a short side street, where he let them graze upon the rich grass by the road while he and Jose ate their luncheon. Streams of water ran along in stone channels by the roadside. The murmur of running water was heard everywhere and always, for this was an especially dry season, and the gardens and fields of Guimarães needed much moisture.
Back the brothers went with the oxen into the city crowds. Antonio wanted to get some presents to take home. Jose helped him choose these. They bought a bright-colored little basket for the mother, new silk kerchiefs for the sisters, a gay little scarlet kerchief for Tareja, and a book, about modern ways of farming, for the father.
After this was done, Antonio was ready to go home.
But Jose begged: "Please, oh please, Antonio, let us stay till dark. The band keeps on playing; I never should tire of hearing that. And some boys were saying on the street as we passed that there are going to be fireworks at dusk."
Antonio hesitated. They were a long way from home, and it had been a long day.
"Joanna will milk the cow, and feed the chickens and pig. Mother will know we are safe together. Do stay, Antonio."
So, because the little brother did not often have a holiday, Antonio delayed starting for home. The sky was very clear. A bright moon would give them light on the way after the late twilight ended.
There were many more people now in the city square. The crowds were cheerful, rather quiet, and very orderly; the Portuguese people are sober-minded, even on their holidays.
Toward nightfall the scene grew gayer. More bonfires were lighted. A second, third, and fourth brass band marched through the streets to their own lively strains of music. Jose's quick ear caught many a tune which he afterward played upon his violin. Candles were lighted now on the shrines of the holiday saint. The cathedral bells rang forth a beautiful vesper hymn. And almost before the sun had set, the fireworks began.