rned away from her so that
she could only see his profile. And for a moment she was sorry for him;
that one moment which always mars an earthly victory.

He turned away from her and walked slowly towards the library window
which stood open and gave passage to the sound of moving cups and
saucers. We all carry with us through life the remembrance of certain
words probably forgotten by the speaker. A few bear the keener, sharper
memory of words unspoken. Juanita never forgot the silence of Evasio Mon
as he walked away from her.

A moment later she heard him laughing and talking in the library.

He had come on horseback and Sarrion accompanied him to the stables on
his departure. They were both young for their years. The Spaniards of the
north are thin and lithe and long-lived. Sarrion offered his hand for
Mon's knee, who with this aid sprang into the saddle.

He turned and looked towards the terrace.

"Juanita," he said, and paused. "She is no longer a child. One hopes that
she may have a happy life ... seeing that so many do not."

Sarrion made no answer.

"We are not weaklings," continued Mon lightly. "You, and Marcos and I. We
may sweat and toil as we will--but believe me, there is more power in
Juanita's little finger. It is the casting vote--amigo--the casting
vote."

He waved a salutation as he rode away.

CHAPTER XXIX

LA MAIN DE FER
Juanita was very early astir the next morning. The house was peculiarly
quiet, but she knew that Marcos, if he had been abroad, had now returned;
for Perro was lying on the terrace in the sunlight watching the library
window.

Juanita went to that room and there found Marcos writing letters. A map
of the Valley of the Wolf lay open on the table beside him.

"You are always writing letters," she said. "You began writing them on
the splash-board of the carriage at the mouth of the valley and you have
been doing it ever since."

"They are making use of my knowledge of the valley," he replied. He
continued his task after a very quick glance up at her. Juanita had found
out that he rarely looked at her.

"I am not at all tired after our adventure," she said. "I made up last
night for the want of sleep. Do I look tired?"

"Not at all," answered Marcos, glancing no higher than her waist.

"But I had a dream," she said. "It was so vivid that I am not sure now
that it was a dream. I am not sure that I did not in reality get out of
bed quite early in the morning, befor