me a good sum--yes a sufficient sum. But when the
time came the money was not forthcoming. An awkward position; but I found
a way out of it."

"By being loyal," suggested Sarrion with a short laugh and there the
conversation ceased.

Juanita looked across the valley towards Pedro's mill. There was no flag
there. All the valley was peaceful enough, giving in the brilliant
sunshine no glint of sword or bayonet.

On the bridge, the little knot of men awaited the advent of the Carlists
forming up round the corner. In a moment these came, swarming over the
road and the hillside. The roadway was packed with them, the rocks and
the bushes above the river seemed alive with them. They fired
independently, and the hillside was white in a moment. The royalist
troops on the bridge fired one volley and then turned. They ran straight
along the road. Some threw down their knapsacks. One or two stopped,
seemed to hesitate and then laid them down on the road like a tired
child. Others limped to the side and sat there.

All the while the Carlists came on. The rear ranks were still coming
round the corner. The skirmishers were already across the bridge. There
was only one place for Zeneta's men to run to now--the castle of Torre
Garda. They were already at the foot of the slope. Juanita and Sarrion
could distinguish the slim form of their commander walking along the road
behind his men, sword in hand. Sometimes he ran a few steps, but for the
most part he walked with long, steady strides, shepherding his men.

They began to climb the slope, and Zeneta took up his position on a rock
jutting out of the hillside. He stood on tiptoe and watched the bridge.
The last of the Carlists were on it now. Juanita could see his eager
face, with intrepid eyes alert, and lips apart, drawn back over his
teeth. She glanced at Sarrion, whose lips were the same. His eyes
glittered. He was biting his lower lip.

As the last man ran across the bridge on the heels of his comrades,
Zeneta looked across the valley towards the water mill. He waved his
handkerchief high above his head. A little flag fluttered above the trees
growing round the mill-wheel.

Cousin Peligros being only human now came to the terrace to see what was
happening. She had taken the precaution of putting on her mittens and
opening her parasol.

"What is the meaning of this noise?" she asked; but neither Sarrion nor
Juanita seemed to hear her. They were watching the little flag, whic