ia were not at all after the pattern set by
Rollo the Scot.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SERGEANT AND LA GIRALDA

The dust-heat of the desolate plains of Old Castile was red on the
horizon when the Sergeant and his companion started together on their
strange and perilous mission. Would they ever return, and when? What
might they not find? A Court deserted and forlorn, courtiers fleeing, or
eager to flee if only they knew whither, from the dread and terrible
plague? A Queen and a princess without guards, a palace open to the
plunder of any chance band of robbers? For something like this the imp
of the deserted village had prepared them.

At all events, the Sergeant and La Giralda went off calmly enough in the
direction of the town of San Ildefonso, driving their donkey before
them. For a minute, as they gained the crest, their figures stood out
black and clear against the coppery sunrise. The next they had
disappeared down the slope, the flapping peak of Cardono's Montera cap
being the last thing to be lost sight of.

The long, dragging, idle day was before the party in the dry ravine.

Etienne went to his saddle-bags, and drawing his breviary from the
leathern flap, began to peruse the lessons for the day with an attentive
piety which was not lessened by the fact that he had forgotten most of
the Latin he had learned at school. John Mortimer, on the other hand,
took out his pocket-book, and was soon absorbed by calculations in which
wine and onions shared the page with schemes for importing into Spain
Manchester goods woven and dyed to suit the taste of the country
housewives.

El Sarria sat down with a long sigh to his never-failing resort of
cleaning and ordering his rifle and pistols. He had a phial of oil, a
feather, and a fine linen rag which he carried about with him for the
purpose. Afterwards he undertook the same office for the weapons of
Rollo. Those of the other members of the expedition might take care of
themselves. Ramon Garcia had small belief in their ability to make much
use of them, at any rate--the sergeant being alone excepted.

These three being accounted for, there remained only Rollo and Concha.
Now there was a double shelf a little way from the horses, from which
the chief of the expedition could keep an eye on the whole encampment.
The pair slowly and, as it were, unconsciously gravitated thither, and
in a moment Rollo found himself telling "the story of his life" to a
sympathetic liste