had not asked him
to join them, so he would venture no further questions as to the time
and the manner of attack. They were still jealous of him with that
easily aroused jealousy of south and north which in Spain divides even
the clannish gipsy.

Nevertheless he went the round of the men. They were mostly busy with
their games, and some of them even snatched the stakes in to them, lest
he should demand a percentage of the winnings after the manner of
Sevilla. The Sergeant smiled at the reputation which distance and many
tongues had given him. Then, with a few words of good fellowship and
the expression of a wish for success and abundant plunder, he bade them
farewell. It was a great deed which they designed and one worthy of his
best days. He was now old, he said, and must needs choose easier
courses. He did not desire twice to feel the grip of the collar of iron.
But young blood--oh, it would have its way and run its risks!

Here the Sergeant smiled and raised his Montera cap. The men as
courteously bade him good-day, preserving, however, a certain respectful
distance, and adding nothing to the information he had already obtained.

But Chica, seated on her stone, with her scarlet-bound head on her hand,
neither looked up nor gave him any greeting as his feet went slowly down
the rocky glen and crunched over the begrimed patches of last year's
snow, now wide-pored and heavy with the heat of noonday.

CHAPTER XXIX

A LITTLE QUEEN AT HOME

Meanwhile, leaving the grave in the shaded corner of the farm garden, La
Giralda went out with many strange things moving in her heart. More than
once she had seen her own children laid in the dust, with far less of
emotion than this nameless little girl clutching her wooden puppet and
smiling, well-pleased, in the face of the Last Terror.

She found the donkey standing still and patient between his fagot
bundles. The she-goats, on the other hand, had scattered a little this
way or that as this blade of grass or that spray of _encina_ had allured
them. But a sharp cry or two called them together. For it was many hours
since any of them had been milked, and the full teats standing out every
way ached for the pressing fingers.

The Sergeant had, of course, long since completely disappeared up the
hillside, so La Giralda, with one comprehensive look back at the
desolate farmhouse, drove her little flock before her towards the town
gates of San Ildefonso. Like a picture, t