stipulations should be faithfully observed. In this
the land of Tadmir almost stood alone in that day, when treaties were
usually made only to be set at naught.

THE CAVE OF COVADONGA.

Tarik landed in Spain in April, 711. So rapid were the Arabs in conquest
that in two years from that date nearly the whole peninsula was in their
hands. Not quite all, or history might have another story to relate. In a
remote province of the once proud kingdom--a rugged northwest corner--a few
of its fugitive sons remained in freedom, left alone by the Arabs partly
through scorn, partly on account of the rude and difficult character of
their place of refuge. The conquerors despised them, yet this slender
group was to form the basis of the Spain we know to-day, and to expand and
spread until the conquerors would be driven from Spanish soil.

The Goths had fled in all directions from their conquerors, taking with
them such of their valuables as they could carry, some crossing the
Pyrenees to France, some hiding in the mountain valleys, some seeking a
place of refuge in the Asturias, a rough hill country cut up in all
directions by steep, scarped rocks, narrow defiles, deep ravines, and
tangled thickets. Here the formidable Moslem cavalry could not pursue
them; here no army could deploy; here ten men might defy a hundred. The
place was far from inviting to the conquerors, but in it was sown the seed
of modern Spain.

A motley crew it was that gathered in this rugged region, a medley of
fugitives of all ranks and stations,--soldiers, farmers, and artisans;
nobles and vassals; bishops and monks; men, women, and children,--brought
together by a terror that banished all distinctions of rank and avocation.
For a number of years this small band of fugitive Christians, gathered
between the mountains and the sea in northwestern Spain, remained quiet,
desiring only to be overlooked or disregarded by the conquerors. But in
the year 717 a leader came to them, and Spain once more lifted her head in
defiance of her invaders.

Pelayo, the leader named, is a hero shrouded in mist. Fable surrounds him;
a circle of romantic stories have budded from his name. He is to us like
his modern namesake, the one battle-ship of Spain, which, during the
recent war, wandered up and down the Mediterranean with no object in view
that any foreigner could discover. Of the original Pelayo, some who
profess to know say that he was of the highest rank,--young,