ng for the Queen-Regent and
little princess when captured. There were a couple of hundred miles to
ride back to those northern fastnesses where they would be safe; for the
most part without cover and through country swarming with Nationals and
Cristino partisans.

Riding thus in deep meditation, Rollo, whose gaze was usually so alert,
did not observe away to the right a couple of horses ridden at speed and
rapidly overtaking their more tired beasts.

El Sarria, however, did not fail to note them, but, fearing a belated
message of recall from General Cabrera, he did not communicate his
discovery to his companions, contenting himself with keeping his eye
upon the approaching riders.

Rollo was therefore still advancing, his reins flung loosely upon his
beast's neck and his whole attitude betokening a melancholy resignation,
a couple of lengths before his companions, when a sudden clattering of
hoofs startled him. He looked up, and there, on her white mare,
well-lathered at girth and bridle, was little Concha Cabezos, sitting
her panting beast with the grace of the true Andaluse.

Her hair was a little ruffled by the wind. Her cheeks and lips were
adorably red. There was a new and brilliant light in her eye; and after
one curiously comprehensive glance at the company, she turned about to
look for her companion, La Giralda, who presently cantered up on a
lumbering Estramenian gelding. La Giralda sat astride as before, her
lower limbs, so far as these were apparent, being closely clad in
leather, a loose skirt over them preserving in part the appearance of
sex.

Rollo was dumb with sheer astonishment. He could only gaze at the
flushed cheek, the tingling electric glances, the air completely
unconscious and innocent of the girl before him.

"Concha!" he cried aloud. "Concha--what do you here? I thought--I
imagined you were safe at the Convent of the Holy Innocents!"

And from behind Sergeant Cardono marked his cheek, alternately paling
and reddening, his stammering tongue and altered demeanour, with the
utmost satisfaction.

"Good--good," he muttered under his breath to El Sarria; "he will make a
true general yet. The saints be praised for this weakness! If only he
were fonder of his dinner all might yet be well!"

CHAPTER XXV

THE MISSION OF THE SENORITA CONCHA

"I too have a mission, I would have you know," said Concha, a dangerous
coquetry showing through her grave demeanour, "a secret mission from th