man of Salamanca!"

Thus did Mistress Concha, "for Rollo's sake!"

CHAPTER XLV

FORLORNEST HOPES

But Rollo himself, our firebrand from the slopes of the Fife
Lothians--what of him? The foxes that Samson sent among the cornfields
of Philistia, with the fire at their tails, ran not more swiftly than
his burning thoughts.

We have followed his career long enough to know that he is not of those
who sit long with his head upon his hands. Even as we look we feel
assured that while he grasps it between his palms, plans, ideas,
possibilities, are passing and repassing within that brain, coming up
for judgment, being set aside for reconsideration, kicked into the limbo
of the finally rejected, jerked sharply back by the collar for another
look over, or brayed in a mortar and mixed into new compounds--all
finally settling down within him into a series of determinations and
alternatives as definite as Euclid and more certain of being carried
into practice than most Acts of Parliament.

After a long time Rollo raised his head. With supremest indifference he
heard about him the first hubbub of the hue-and-cry after Concha. So
heavy was his heart within him that (to his shame be it writ!) he had
never even missed her as she went up the mountain. Yet she would have
missed him had fifty queens and princesses been in danger of their
lives--aye, and her own honour and that of her race at stake throughout
all their generations.

Rollo, however, gave no heed, but following his intent, stalked slowly
and steadily to the General's quarters.

"No one is allowed to enter," called out an officer, whose only mark of
rank was a small golden badge with "C. V." upon it, pinned upon the
collar of his blue shirt. He was sitting cross-legged on the grass,
mending the hood of his cloak with a packing needle.

"I am Colonel Rollo Blair," said the young man; "I brought hither the
royal party, and I must see General Cabrera!"

"Young man," said the other, in good English, "I am a countryman of
yours--in so far, that is, as a poor Southern may be, whose ancestors
fought on the wrong side at Bannockburn. But for your own sake I advise
you not to disturb the General at this hour. The occupation cannot be
recommended on the score of health."

"I thank you, sir," said Rollo, "but I have my duty to do and my risks
to run as well as you. And if you, an Englishman, desire to be art and
part in the shooting of a Queen-Mother and her little r