quired, exactly in the order of their rank; on the
march and in the camp, every insurgent willingly obeyed the orders of
the new leader, who by the fortune of war had thrown pairs-royal on the
drumhead.

One thing was certain: some decisive action must be taken. Every one
needed doublets and shoes, money and good lodgings. But in what way
could these be most easily procured? By parleying and submitting on
acceptable conditions, said some; by remaining free and capturing a
city, roared others; first wealthy Mechlin, which could be speedily
reached. There they could get what they wanted without money. Zorrillo
counselled prudent conduct; Navarrete impetuously advised bold action.
They, the insurgents, he cried, were stronger than any other military
force in the Netherlands, and need fear no one. If they begged and
entreated they would be dismissed with copper coins; but if they
enforced their demands they would become rich and prosperous.

With flashing eyes he extolled what the troops, and he himself had done;
he enlarged upon the hardships they had borne, the victories won for the
king. He asked nothing but good pay for blood and toil, good pay, not
coppers and worthless promises.

Loud shouts of approval followed his speech, and a gunner, who now held
the rank of captain, exclaimed enthusiastically:

"Navarrete, the hero of Lepanto and Haarlem, is right! I know whom I
will choose."

"Victor, victor Navarrete!" echoed from many a bearded lilt.

But Zorrillo interrupted these declarations, exclaiming, not without
dignity, while raising his baton still higher. "The election will take
place to-morrow, gentlemen; we are holding a council to-day. It is
very warm in here; I feel it as much as you do. But before we separate,
listen a few minutes to a man, who means well." Zorrillo now explained
all the reasons, which induced him to counsel negotiations and a
friendly agreement with the commander-in-chief. There was sound,
statesmanlike logic in his words, yet his language did not lack warmth
and charm. The men perceived that he was in earnest, and while he spoke
the sibyl went behind him, laid her hand on his shoulder, and wiped the
perspiration from his brow with her handkerchief. Zorrillo permitted
it, and without interrupting himself, gave her a grateful, affectionate
glance.

The bronzed warriors liked to look at her, and even permitted her to
utter a word of advice or warning during their discussions, for she was