cellency," said Rollo, "save that if you are satisfied of our
good faith I should like to see Luis Fernandez the miller dealt with
according to his deserts!"

"I will have him shot instantly," cried Cabrera; "he hath given false
tidings to his Majesty's generals. He hath belied his honest servants.
Guard, bring Luis Fernandez hither!"

This was rather more than Rollo had bargained for. He was not yet
accustomed to the summary methods of Cabrera, even though the butcher's
hand had hardly yet unclosed from himself. He was already meditating an
appeal in favour of milder measures, when the guard returned with the
news that Luis Fernandez was nowhere to be found. Dwelling-house,
strong-room, mill, garden, and gorge beneath--all had been searched. In
vain--they were empty and void. The tumbled beds where the general and
his staff had slept, the granary with its trampled heaps of corn ready
for grinding, the mill-wheel with the pool beneath where the lights and
shadows played at bo-peep, where the trout lurked and the water-boxes
seemed to descend into an infinity of blackness--all were deserted and
lonesome as if no man had been near them for a hundred years.

"The rascal has escaped!" cried Cabrera, full of rage; "have I not told
you a thousand times you keep no watch? I have a great mind to stand
half a dozen of you up against that wall. Escaped with my entire command
about the rogue's home-nest! Well, set a torch to it and see if he is
lurking anywhere about the crevices like a centipede in a crack!"

Cabrera felt that he had wasted a great deal of time on a fine morning
without shooting somebody, and it would certainly have gone ill with Don
Luis or his brother if either of them had been compelled by the flames
to issue forth from the burning mill-house of Sarria.

But they were not there. The cur dogs of the village and a few
half-starved mongrels that followed the troops had great sport worrying
the rats which darted continually from the burning granaries. But of the
more important human rats, no sign.

All the inhabitants of the village were there likewise, held back from
plundering by the bayonets of the Carlist troops. They stood recounting
to each other, wistfully, the stores of clothes, the silk curtains, the
uncut pieces of broadcloth, the household linen, the great eight-day
clocks in their gilt ormolu cases. Every woman had something to add to
the catalogue. Every householder felt keenly the injustice of