down to the verandah to entertain the unsought guest.

"They have given us coffee," he said, "in the library. It is too hot in
the sun, although we are still in March! Will you come?"

"And what has Juanita decreed?" asked Mon, when they were seated and
Sarrion had lighted his cigarette.

"The verdict has gone against you," replied Sarrion. "Juanita has decreed
most emphatically that you are not to be allowed to see Marcos."

Mon laughed and spread out his hands with a characteristic gesture of
bland acceptance of the inevitable. The man, it seemed, was a
philosopher; a person, that is to say, who will play to the end a game
which he knows he cannot win.

"Aha!" he laughed. "So we arrive at the point where a woman holds the
casting vote. It is the point to which all men travel. They have always
held the casting vote--ces dames--and we can only bow to the inevitable.
And Juanita is grown up. One sees it. She is beginning to record her
vote."

"Yes," answered Sarrion with a narrow smile. "She is beginning to record
her vote."

With a Spanish formality of manner, Sarrion placed his horse at the
disposition of Evasio Mon, should the traveller feel disposed to pass the
night at Torre Garda. But Mon declined.

"I am a bird of passage," he explained. "I am due in Pampeluna again
to-night. I shall enjoy the ride down the valley now that your
hospitality has so well equipped me for the journey----"

He broke off and looked towards the open window, listening.

Sarrion had also been listening. He had heard the thud of Marcos' horse
as it passed across the wooden bridge below the village.

"Guns again?" he suggested, with a short laugh.

"I certainly heard something," Mon answered. And rising briskly from his
chair, he went to the window. Sarrion followed him, and they stood side
by side looking out over the valley. At that moment that which was more
of a vibration than a sound came to their ears across the mountains--deep
and foreboding.

"I thought I was right," said Mon, in little more than a whisper. "The
Carlists are abroad, my friend, and I, who am a man of peace must get
within the city walls."

With an easy laugh he said good-bye. In a few minutes he was in the
saddle riding leisurely down the valley of the Wolf after Juanita--with
Marcos de Sarrion in between them on the road.

CHAPTER XXV

WAR'S ALARM
Juanita's carriage emerged from the valley of the Wolf into the plain at
sunset. She could see