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, before daylight, when the moon was just touching the mountains, and look out of my window. And the terrace, Marcos, was covered with soldiers; rows and rows of them, like shadows.
And at the end, beneath my window, stood a group of men. Some were officers; one looked like General Pacheco, fat with a chuckling laugh; another seemed to be Captain Zeneta--the friend who stood by us in the chapel of Our Lady of the Shadows--who was saying his prayers, you remember. Most young men are too conceited to say their prayers nowadays.
And there were two civilians, in riding-boots all dusty, who looked singularly like you and Uncle Ramon. It was an odd dream, Marcos--was it not?"
"Yes," answered he with a laugh. "Do not tell it to the wrong people as Joseph did."
"No, your reverence," she said. She stood looking at him with grave eyes.
"Is there going to be a battle?" she asked, curtly.
"Yes."
"Where?"
He pointed down into the valley with his pen.
"Just above the bridge if it all comes off as they have planned."
She went out on to the terrace and looked down into the valley, which was peaceful enough in the morning light. The thin smoke of the pine wood-fires rose from the chimneys in columns of brilliant blue. The sheep on the slopes across the valley were calling to their lambs. Then Juanita returned to the library window and stood on the threshold, with brooding eyes and a bright patch of colour in her cheeks.
"Will you do me a favour?" she asked.
"Of course."
He lifted his pen from the paper, but did not look up.
"If there is a battle--if there is any fighting, will you take great care of yourself? It would be so terrible if anything happened to you ... for Uncle Ramon I mean."
"Yes," answered Marcos, gravely. "I understand. I promise to take care."
Juanita still lingered at the window.
"And you always keep your promises, don"t you? To the letter?"
"Why shouldn"t I?"
"No, of course not. It is characteristic of you, that is all. Your promise is a sort of rock that nothing can move. Women, you know, make a promise and then ask to be let off; you would not do that?"
"No," answered Marcos, quite simply.
In Navarre the hours of meals are much the same as those that rule in England to-day. At one o"clock luncheon both Marcos and Sarrion were at home. The valley seemed quiet enough. The soldiers of Juanita"s dream seemed to have vanished like the shadows to which she compared them.
"I am sure," said Cousin Peligros, while they were still at the table, "that the sound of firing approaches. I have a very delicate hearing. All my senses are very highly developed. The sound of the firing is nearer, Marcos."
"Zeneta is retreating slowly before the enemy, with his small force,"
explained Marcos.
"But why is he doing that? He must surely know that there are ladies at Torre Garda."
"Ladies are not articles of war," said Juanita with a frivolous disregard of Cousin Peligros" reproving face. "And this is war."
As she spoke Marcos rose and quitted the room after glancing at his watch. Juanita followed him.
"Marcos," she said, in the hall, having closed the dining-room door behind her. "Will you tell me what time it will begin?"
"Zeneta is timed to retreat across the bridge at three o"clock. The enemy will, it is hoped, follow him."
"And where will you be?"
"I shall be with Pacheco and his staff on the hill behind Pedro"s mill.
You will see a little flag wherever Pacheco is."
Cousin Peligros" delicate hearing had not been deceived. The firing was now close at hand. The valley takes a turn to the left below the ridge and upon the hillside above this corner the white irregular line of smoke now became visible.
In a few minutes the dark ma.s.s of Zeneta"s men appeared on the road at the corner. He was before his time. The men were running. They raised the dust like a troop of sheep and moved in a halo of it. Every hundred yards they stopped and fired a volley. They were acting with perfect regularity and from a distance looked like toy soldiers. They were retreating in good order and the sound of their volleys came at regular intervals. On the bridge they halted. They were going to make a stand here, as would seem natural. Had they had artillery they could have effectually held this strong and narrow place.
It now became apparent that they were a woefully small detachment. They could not spare men to take up positions on the rocky hillside behind them.
There was a pause. The Carlists were waiting for their skirmishers to come in from heights above the road.
Sarrion and Juanita stood at the edge of the terrace. Sarrion was watching with a quick and comprehensive glance.
"Is General Pacheco a good general?" asked Juanita.
"Excellent."
Sarrion did not comment further on this successful soldier.