lock must take the black sheep
also.

El Sarria simply recollected that his gun and pistols were in good
order, and waited for orders.

The conference therefore resolved itself into a trio of
consultants--Rollo because he was the leader, Sergeant Cardono because
he knew the country, and Concha--because she was Concha!

They were within an hour or two's rapid march of La Granja over a pass
in the Guadarrama. The sergeant volunteered to lead them down into the
gardens in that time. He knew a path often travelled by smugglers on
their way to Segovia.

"It is clear that if we are to carry away the Queen-Regent and her
daughter, we must forestall the gipsies," said Rollo.

Concha clasped her hands pitifully.

"Ah, the poor young Queen!" she cried. "Praise to the saints that I was
not born a princess! It goes to my heart to make her a prisoner!"

The Sergeant uttered a guttural grunt which intimated that in his
opinion the influence of the petticoat on the career of a soldier might
be over-done. Otherwise he maintained his gravity, speaking only when he
was directly appealed to and giving his judgment with due submission to
his superiors.

Finally it was judged that they should make a night march over the
mountains, find some suitable place to lie up in during the day, and in
the morning send in La Giralda and the Sergeant to San Ildefonso in the
guise of fagot sellers to find out if the gipsy boy of Baza had spoken
the truth.

* * * * *

San Ildefonso and La Granja are two of the most strangely situated
places in Spain. A high and generally snow-clad Sierra divides them from
Madrid and the south. The palace is one of the most high-lying upon
earth, having originally been one of the mountain granges of the monks
of Segovia to which a king of Spain took a fancy, and, what is more
remarkable, for which he was willing to pay good money.

Upon the site a palace has been erected, a miniature Versailles,
infinitely more charming than the original, with walks, fountains,
waterfalls all fed by the cold snow water of the Guadarrama, and fanned
by the pure airs of the mountains. This Grange has been for centuries a
favourite resort of the Court of Spain, and specially during these last
years of the Regent Cristina, who, when tired with the precision and
etiquette of the Court of Madrid, retired hither that she might do as
she pleased for at least two or three months of the year.

Generally