Pedro, "especially if it was all so fine as the one they say the
young King Carlos(1) wears--Emperor, too, now, is he not? Could we be
emperors, too, sister, if we were martyrs, and had each a crown? But we
must be crusaders first, I suppose. Come, let us go at once."

(1) King Charles the Fifth was at this time King of Spain, and had just
been elected Emperor of Germany.

The road from granite-walled Avila to the south is across a wild and
desolate waste, frowned down upon on either hand by the savage crests
of the grim sierras of the Guadarrama. It winds along gorges and ravines
and rocky river-beds, and has always been, even in the days of Spanish
power and glory, about as untamed and savagely picturesque a road as one
could well imagine.

Along this hard and desolate road, only a few days after their
determination had been reached, to start upon a crusade the brother and
sister plodded. Theresa carried her crucifix, and Pedro his toy sword,
while in a little wallet at his side were a few bits of food taken from
the home larder. This stock of food had, of course, been taken without
the knowledge of the mother, who knew nothing of their crusade, and
this, therefore, furnished for Theresa another sin, for which she must
do penance, and another reason for the desired martyrdom.

They had really only proceeded a few miles into the mountains beyond
Avila, but already their sturdy little legs were tired, and their stout
little backs were sore. Pedro thought crusading not such very great fun
after all; he was always hungry and thirsty, and Theresa would only let
him take a bite once in a while.

"Don't you suppose there is a Moorish castle somewhere around here that
we could capture, and so get plenty to eat?" he inquired of his sister.
"That is what the Cid was always finding. Don't you remember how nicely
he got into Alcacer and slew eleven Infidel knights, and found ever so
much gold and things to eat? This is what he said, you know:

"'On, on, my knights, and smite the foe!
And falter not, I pray;
For by the grace of God, I trow,
The town is ours this day!'"

"O Pedro, dear, why will you think so much of things to eat," groaned
Theresa. "Do you not know that to be hungry is one way to be a martyr.
And besides, it is, I doubt not, our just punishment for having taken
any thing to eat without letting mother know. We must suffer and be
strong, little brother."

"That's just like a girl," cried