cond huge stone ("to
amuse the gentlemen in the blue and red," he said), he sent it after the
first.

Then without waiting to ascertain the effect, Ramon plunged suddenly
over an overhanging rock, apparently throwing himself bodily into space.
He found his feet again on an unseen ledge, tip-toed along it, with his
fingers hooked in a crack, and lo! the rock-face split duly in twain and
there was his cleft, as smooth and true as if the mountain had been cut
in half, like a bridescake, and moved a little apart.

There was the same glad defiance in the heart of El Sarria, which he had
felt long ago, when as a boy he lay hidden in the rambling cellars of
the old wine-barn, while his companions exhausted themselves in loud and
unavailing research behind every cask and vat.

And indeed the game was in all points identically the same. For in no
long space of time, Ramon could hear the shouting of his pursuers above
him. It was dark down there in the cleft, but once he caught a glimpse
of blue sky high above him, and again the fragrance of a sprig of thyme
was borne to his nostrils. The smell took him at an advantage, and
something thickened painfully in his throat. Dolores had loved that
scent as she had loved all sweet things.

"It is the bee's flower," she had argued one night, as he had stood with
his arm under her mantilla, looking out at the wine-red hills under a
fiery Spanish gloaming, "the bees make honey, _and I eat it_!"

Whereat he had called her a "greedy little pig," with a lover's fond
abuse of the thing he most loves, and they had gone in together quickly
ere the mosquitoes had time to follow them behind the nets which Ramon
had held aside a moment for her to enter.

Thinking of this kept Ramon from considering the significance of the
other fact he had ascertained. Above he saw the blue sky, deep blue as
the Mediterranean when you see it lie land-bound between two
promontories.

Then it struck him suddenly that the mist must have passed. If he went
now he would emerge in the clear sunshine of even. Well, it mattered
not, he would wait in the cleft for sunset and make his escape then. He
knew that the "Lads of the Squadron" would be very hot and eager on the
chase, after one of them had tasted El Sarria's bullet in his thigh. He
would have a short shrift and no trial at all if he fell into their
hands. For in those days neither Carlist nor Cristino either asked or
gave quarter. And, indeed, it was more th