hand. The stable
at Torre Garda stands at the side of the house, a few feet behind it
against the hillside. In this remote spot, with but one egress to the
outer world, bolts and locks are not considered a necessity of life.
Sarrion opened the door of the house where the grooms and their families
lived, and went in.

In a few moments he returned to the stable-yard, accompanied by the man
who had driven Juanita and Cousin Peligros from Pampeluna a few hours
earlier. Together they got out the same carriage and a pair of horses. By
the light of a stable lantern they adjusted the harness. Then Sarrion
returned to the house for his cloak and hat. He brought with him Marcos'
rifle which stood in a rack in the hall and laid it on the seat of the
carriage. The man was already on the box, yawning audibly and without
restraint.

As Sarrion seated himself in the carriage he glanced upwards. Juanita was
standing on the balcony, at the corner by Marcos' window, looking down at
him, watching him silently. Perro was already out of the gate in the
darkness, leading the way.

They were not long absent. Perro was no genius, but what he did know, he
knew thoroughly, which for practical purposes is almost as good. He led
them to the spot little more than three miles down the valley, where
Marcos lay at the side of the road, which is white and dusty. It was
quite easy to perceive the dark form lying there, and Perro's lean limbs
shaking over it.

When the carriage returned Juanita was standing at the open door. She had
lighted the lamp in the hall and carried in her hand a lantern which she
must have found in the kitchen. But she had awakened none of the
servants, and was alone, still in her dressing-gown, with her dark hair
flying in the breeze.

She came forward to the carriage and held up the lantern.

"Is he dead?" she asked quietly.

Sarrion did not answer at once. He was sitting in one corner of the
carriage, with Marcos' head and shoulders resting on his knees.

"I do not know how badly he is hurt," he answered at length. "We called
at the chemist's as we came through the village and awoke him. He has
been an army servant and is as good as a doctor--"

"If the Senorita will hold the horses," interrupted the coachman, pushing
Juanita gently aside, "we will carry him up-stairs."

And something in the man's manner made her think that Marcos was dead.
She was compelled to wait there at least ten minutes, holding the horses.