From the flagstaff they enjoyed the magnificent view of the African coast across the straits, of Spain stretching away to their right, of the broad expanse of the blue Mediterranean, and of the bay with its ships, and the "Falcon" dwarfed to the dimensions of a toy vessel, at their feet.

Then they came down, paid a flying visit to the various fortifications and to the galleries, whence the guns peer out threateningly across the low, sandy spit, known as the neutral ground.
When all this was finished, it was only natural that they should go to the principal hotel and eat a prodigious luncheon, and then Hawtry proposed that they should sally out for a ramble into Spain.
They had been disappointed in the oranges, which they found in no way better than those which they had bought in England.

But they thought that if they could pick them off the trees, they must somehow have a superior flavor.

Accordingly they sallied out by the land gate, passed unquestioned through the line of British sentries, and were soon in the little village inside the Spanish lines.
"It's awfully hot," Hawtry said, mopping his forehead.

"Who would have thought that it would have been so hot as this in any place in Europe in the middle of February?
Just fancy what it must be here in July! Look, there is a fellow with two mules.