did not add that he had also seen in that same garden a mound of
newly-dug earth, under which lay, beside her little daughter, a mother
as loving and more faithful than that Queen-Mother for whose sake they
were risking their lives.

The Sergeant's hurriedly prepared lunch was a prodigious success.

The great folk partook as heartily as any, and (perhaps owing to their
extreme youth) the _pollos_ tasted much more tender than could have been
expected, considering the fact that the Sergeant had found them
industriously pecking and scratching in the dust of the farmyard upon
his arrival, and that, while he dug the grave, he had sent La Giralda to
drive them into a wood-shed, where presently they were captured _en
masse_.

Rollo ate but little, for he was intensely excited. He had succeeded
beyond expectation so far, and now he was beginning to see his way past
all entanglements to the successful accomplishment of his mission. His
plan was to proceed by unfrequented paths, such as were, however,
perfectly familiar to his adjutant Sergeant Cardono, along the northern
slopes of the Guadarrama till he should be able to look out across the
fertile plain of the Duero towards the mural front of the Sierra de
Moncayo.

Thence by forced marches across the valley, undertaken at night, he
might hope in two stages at most to put his charges under the care of
General Elio, the immediate representative of Don Carlos, who had
established his headquarters there. Small wonder that Rollo grew
excited. The worst seemed over--the myriad adventures, the perilous
passes, the thousand enemies. Now the plains lay before him, and--Concha
loved him.

If only this weight of responsibility were once off his mind--ah, then!

Poor Rollo! And indeed poor humankind in general! How often the wind
falls to a breeze, heat-tempering, grateful, which comes in fits and
starts, not severe enough to chill, yet long enough to cool the body
weary of the summer heats, with a sense of grateful relief.

And it is precisely in the teeth of such a gentle-breathing,
cheek-fanning earth-wind that the thunderstorm comes riding up overhead,
its flanks black and ragged with rain and fierce spurts of hail, and in
the midst of all the white desolating lightnings zigzagging to the
ground.

CHAPTER XLII

A SNARE NOT SPREAD IN VAIN

The town of Aranda lay to the left, perched high above them on the
slopes of the Sierra de Moncayo. Rollo looked past the crum