s here was born in Africa, the native land of
tigers, and his mother...."

"I thought you got him in Tubingen?"

"I said just now that I tell lies. I imposed upon you, when I made you
think Lelaps came from Swabia; he was really born in the desert, where
the tigers live.

"No offence, Herr Ulrich! We'll keep our jests for another evening. As
soon as I'm knocked down, I stop my nonsense. Now tell me, where shall
I find Navarrete, the standard-bearer, the hero of Lepanto and Schouwen?
He must be a bold fellow; they say Zorrillo and he...."

The lansquenet had spoken loudly; the quartermaster, who caught the name
Navarrete, turned, and his eyes met Ulrich's.

He must be on his guard against this man.

The instant Zorrillo recognized him as a German, he would hold a
powerful weapon. The Spaniards would give the command only to a
Spaniard.

This thought now occurred to him for the first time. It had needed
the meeting with Hans Eitelfritz, to remind him that he belonged to a
different nation from his comrades. Here was a danger to be encountered,
so with the rapid decision, acquired in the school of war, he laid his
hand heavily on his countryman's, saying in a low, impressive tone: "You
are my friend, Hans Eitelfritz, and have no wish to injure me."

"Zounds, no! What's up?"

"Well then, keep to yourself where and how we first met each other.
Don't interrupt me. I'll tell you later in my tent, where you must take
up your quarters, how I gained my name, and what I have experienced in
life. Don't show your surprise, and keep calm. I, Ulrich, the boy from
the Black Forest, am the man you seek, I am Navarrete."

"You?" asked the lansquenet, opening his eyes in amazement. "Nonsense!
You're paying me off for the yarns I told you just now."

No, Hans Eitelfritz, no! I am not jesting, I mean it. I am Navarrete!
Nay more! If you keep your mouth shut, and the devil doesn't put his
finger into the pie, I think, spite of all the Zorrillos, I shall be
Eletto to-morrow.

"You know the Spanish temper! The German Ulrich will be a very different
person to them from the Castilian Navarrete. It is in your power to
spoil my chance."

The other interrupted him by a peal of loud, joyous laughter, then
shouted to the dog: "Up, Lelaps! My respects to Caballero Navarrete."

The Spaniards frowned, for they thought the German was drunk, but Hans
Eitelfritz needed more liquor than that to upset his sobriety.

Flashing a mischievous