The wonderful
consistency and perseverance with which the role was sustained was
worthy of a much better cause.
He began by yelling in a coarse, strident voice, "Arre! arre!" (Get up!)
with a vicious emphasis on the final syllable. This is one of the
Moorish words that have remained fixed like fossils in the language of
the conquerors. Its constant use in the mouths of muleteers has given
them the name of arrieros. This general admonition being addressed to
the team at large, the zagal descended to details, and proceeded to
vilipend the galloping beasts separately, beginning with the leader. He
informed him, still in this wild, jerking scream, that he was a dog,
that his mother's character was far from that of Caesar's wife, and that
if more speed was not exhibited on this down grade, he would be forced
to resort to extreme measures. At the mention of a whip, the tall male
mule who led the team dashed gallantly off, and the diligence was soon
enveloped in a cloud of dust. This seemed to excite our gay charioteer
to the highest degree. He screamed lustily at his mules, addressing each
personally by its name. "Andaluza, arre! Thou of Arragon, go! Beware the
scourge, Manchega!" and every animal acknowledged the special attention
by shaking its ears and bells and whisking its shaven tail, as the
diligence rolled furiously over the dull drab plain.
For three hours the iron lungs of the muleteer knew no rest or pause.
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