CHAPTER XLIII
THE RED BOINAS OF NAVARRE
Concha and El Sarria sat down on an outcrop of red sandstone rock, andgazed back at the prospect. There below them lay the camp and the housein which was imprisoned the reigning branch of the royal family ofSpain. A couple of sentries paced to and fro in front. A picket hadestablished itself for the night in the back courtyard. Beyond thatagain stood the tent in which the General was at present engaged indrinking himself from his usual sullen ferocity into unconsciousness.
A little nearer, and not far from their own camp-fire, at which theSergeant was busily preparing the evening meal, sat Rollo, sunk inmisery, revolving a thousand plans and ready for any desperate ventureso soon as night should fall. Concha gave a quick little sigh wheneverher eye fell on him. Perhaps her conscience pricked her--perhaps not!With the heart of such a woman doth neither stranger nor friendintermeddle with any profit.
The sauntering Vitorian halted within speaking distance of the pair.
"A fine evening," he said affably. "Can you give me a light for mycigarette?"
It was on the tip of El Sarria's tongue to inquire whether there werenot plenty of lights for his cigarette back at the camp-fires where hehad rolled it. But that most excellent habit, which Don Ramon had usedfrom boyhood, of never interfering in the business of another, kept himsilent.
"Why should I," he thought, "burn my fingers with stirring this youngforeigner's _olla_? Time was when I made a pretty mess enough of myown!"
So without speech he blew the end off his _cigarillo_ and handed itcourteously to the Carlist soldier.
But Concha had no qualms about breaking the silence. The presence of aduenna was nowise necessary to the opening of her lips, which last hadalso sometimes been silenced without the intervention of a chaperon.
"A fine evening, indeed," she said, smiling down at the youth. "Ipresume that you are a foot soldier from the musket you carry. It mustbe a fine one from the care you take of it! But as for me, I likecavaliers best."
"The piece is as veritable a cross-eyed old shrew as ever threw a bulletten yards wide of the mark," cried the Alavan, tossing his musket downupon the short elastic covering of hill-plants on which he stood, andtaking his cigarette luxuriously from his lips. "Nor am I aninfantry-man, as you suppose. Doubtless the _Senorita_ did not observemy spurs as I came. Of the best Potosi silver they are made. I am ahorseman of the Estella regiment. Our good Carlos the Fifth (whom Godbring to his own!) is not yet rich enough to provide us with much in theway of a uniform, but a pair of spurs and a _boina_ are within reach ofevery man's purse. Or if he has not the money to buy them, they are tobe had at the first tailor's we may chance to pass!"
"And very becoming they are!" said Concha, glancing wickedly at theyouth, who sat staring at her and letting his cigarette go out. "'Tissmall wonder you are a conquering corps! I have often heard tell of theRed Boinas of Navarre!"
"I think I will betake me down to the camp--I smell supper!" broke in ElSarria, curtly. He began to think that Mistress Concha had no furtheruse for him, and, being assured on this point, he set about findingother business for himself. For, with all his simplicity, Ramon Garciawas an exceedingly practical man.
"The air is sweet up here; I prefer it to supper," said Concha. "I willfollow you down in a moment. Perhaps this gentleman desires to keep youcompany to the camp and canteen."
But it soon appeared that the Vitorian was also impressed by themarvellous sweetness of the mountain air, and equally desirous ofobserving the changeful lights and lengthening shadows which the sun ofevening cast, sapphire and indigo, Venetian red and violet-grey, amongthe peaks of the Sierra de Moncayo. When two young people are thussimultaneously stricken with an admiration for scenery, theirconversation is seldom worth repeating. But the Senorita Concha is sounusual a young lady that in this case an exception must be made.
Awhile she gazed pensively up at the highest summits of the mountain,now crimson against a saffron sky, for at eventide Spain flaunts hernational colours in the very heavens. Then she heaved a deep sigh.
"You are doubtless a fine horseman?" she cried, clasping her hands--"oh,I adore all horses! I love to see a man ride as a man should!"
The young man coloured. This was, in truth, the most open joint in hisarmour. Above all things he prided himself upon his horsemanship. Conchahad judged as much from his care of his spurs. And then to be mistakenfor an infantry tramper!
"Ah," he said, "if the _Senorita_ could only see my mare La Perla! I gother three months ago from the stable of a black-blooded National whosehouse we burnt near Zaragoza. She has carried me ever since without aday's lameness. There is not the like of her in the regiment. Our mountsare for the most part mere _garrons_ of Cataluna or Aragonese ponieswith legs like the pillars of a cellar, surmounted by barrels as roundas the wine-tuns themselves."
At this Concha looked still more pensive. Presently she heaved anothersigh and tapped her slender shoe with a chance spray of heath.
"Oh, I wish----" she began, and then stopped hastily as if ashamed.
"If it be anything that I can do for you," cried the young man,enthusiastically, "you shall not have to wish it long!"
As he spoke he forsook the stone on which he had been sitting foranother nearer to the pretty cross-tied shoes of Andalucian pattern thatshowed beneath the skirts of Concha's _basquina_.
"Ah, how I love horses!" murmured Concha; "doubtless, too, yours is ofmy country--of the beautiful sunny Andalucia which I may never seeagain!"
"The mare is indeed believed by all who have knowledge to haveAndalucian blood in her veins," answered the Alavan.
Concha rose to her feet impulsively.
"Then," she said, "I must see her. Also I am devoured with eagerness tosee you ride."
She permitted her eyes to take in the trim figure of the Vitorian, whohad also risen to his feet.
"Do go and bring her," she murmured; "I will take care of your musket.You need not be a moment, and--I will wait for you!"
A little spark kindles a great fire in a Spanish heart, and the youngman, counting the cost, rapidly decided that the risk was worth running.The horses of the Estella regiment were picketed in a little hollow afew hundred yards behind the main camp. It was his duty to watch thesetwo strangers, of whom one had already gone back to the camp, while asto the other--well, Adrian Zumaya of the province of Alava felt at thatmoment that he could cheerfully devote the rest of his life to watchingthat other.
In a moment more he had laid down his musket at Concha's feet, and setoff as fast as he could in the direction of the horses, keeping well outof sight in the trough of a long roller of foot-hill until he was closeto the cavalry lines, and could smell the honest stable-smell which inthe open air mingled curiously with those of aromatic thyme and resinousjuniper.
In five minutes he was back, riding his best and sitting like a Centaur.
Concha's eyes glistened with pleasure, and she ran impulsively forwardto pat the cream-coloured mare, a clean-built, well-gathered,workmanlike steed.
Now the young man was very proud of the interest this pretty Andaluciangirl was showing in his equipment and belongings to the exclusion ofthose of his comrades. Perhaps he might have been less pleased had heknown that the young lady's interest extended even to the gun he hadleft behind him, the charge of which she had already managed to extractwith deft and competent fingers.
"La Perla she is called," he cried with enthusiasm, "and sure none otherever better deserved the name! I wish we of the camp possessed aside-saddle that the _Senorita_ might try her paces. She has the easiestmotion in the world. It is like riding in a great lady's coach withsprings or being carried in a Sedan-chair. But she is of a delicatemouth. Ah, yes--if the _Senorita_ mounted, it would be necessary toremember that she must not bear hard upon the reins. Then would La Perlaof a certainty take the bit between her teeth and run like the devilwhen Father Mateo is after him with a holy water syringe!"
Concha smiled as the young f
ellow dismounted, flinging himself off withthe lithe grace of youth and constant practice.
"You forget," she said, "I also am of the Province of Flowers. Do not beafraid. La Perla and I will not fall out. A side-saddle--any saddle!What needs Concha Cabezos with side-saddle when she hath ridden unbrokenAndalucian jennets wild over the meadows of Mairena, with no betterbridle than their manes of silk and no other saddle than their glossyhides, brown as toasted bread!"
As she made this boast Concha patted La Perla's pretty head, who,recognising a lover of her kind, muzzled an affectionate nose under thegirl's arm.
"Oh, how I wish I could try you," she cried, "were it but for amoment--darling among steeds, Pearl of Andalucia!"
"La Perla is very gentle," suggested the young cavalier of Alava, as hethought most subtly. "With me at the mare's head the _Senorita_ mightsafely enough ride. But for fear of interruption let us first proceed alittle way out of sight of the camp."
They descended behind the long ridge till the camp was entirely hidden,and as they did so the heart of the young Vitorian beat fast. They thinkplentifully well of themselves, these young men of Alava and Navarre.And this one felt that he would not disgrace the name of his parentcity.
"Only for a moment, _Senorita_, permit me--there! The _Senorita_ goes uplike a bird! Now wait till I take her head, and beware of jerking therein hastily on account of the delicacy of the little lady's mouth. So,La Perla,--gently and daintily! Consider, jewel of mares, what aprecious burden is now on thy back!"
"A moment, only a moment!" cried Concha, her hands apparently busy abouther hair, "this rebozo is no headgear to ride in. What shall I do? Ahandkerchief is not large enough. Ah, _Cavallero_, add to your kindnessby lending me your _boina_! I thank you a thousand times! There! Is thatso greatly amiss?"
And she set the red _boina_ daintily upon her hair, pulling the brimsideways to shade her eyes from the level evening sun, and smiled downat the young man who stood at her side.
"Perfect! Beautiful!" cried the young Vitorian, clasping his hands. "Thesight would set on fire the heart of Don Carlos himself. Ah, take care!Bear easily on that rein. Stop, La Perla! Stop! I beseech you!"
And he started running with all his might. Alas, in vain! For the wickedConcha, the moment that he had stepped back to take in the effect of thered _boina_, dropped a heel (into which she had privately inserted halfan inch of pin, taken from her own headgear), upon the flank of LaPerla. The mare sprang forward, with nostrils distended and a fiercejerk of the head. Concha pulled hard as if in terror, and presently wasflying over the plain towards the cleft on the shoulder of Moncayobeyond which lay the camp of General Elio.
The young Carlist stood a moment aghast. Then slowly he realised thesituation. Whereupon, crying aloud the national oath, he ground his heelinto the grass, snatched at his gun, kneeled upon one knee, took carefulaim, and clicked down the trigger. No report followed, however, and aslight inspection satisfied him that he had been tricked, duped, made afool of by a slip of a girl, a girl with eyes--yes, and eye-lashes. Heleaped in the air and shouted aloud great words in Basque which have nodirect equivalents in any polite European language, but which were wellenough understood in the stone age.
However, he wasted no time foolishly. Well he knew that for suchmistakes there was in Cabrera's code neither forgiveness nor, indeed,any penalty save one. Adrian Zumaya of the province of Alava was young.He desired much to live, if only that he might meet that girl again atwhose retreating figure he had a moment before pointed an empty gunbarrel. Ah, he would be even with her yet! So, wasting no time onleave-taking, he bent low behind the ridge, and keeping well in theshelter of boulder and underbrush, made a bee-line for the cliffs ofMoncayo, where presently, in one of the caves of which El Sarria hadspoken, he counted his cartridges and reloaded his rifle, with littleregret, except when he wished that the incident had happened after,instead of before supper.
However, he had in reserve a hand's-breadth of sausage in his pocket,together with a fragment of most ancient and rock-like cheese. These,since no better might be, he made the best of, and as the sun sank andthe camp below him grew but a blur in the gloom, he washed them downwith the water which percolated through the roof of the cave and fell ingreat drops, as regularly as a pendulum swings, upon the floor below.These he caught in his palms and drank with much satisfaction. And inthe intervals he execrated the Senorita Concha Cabezos, late ofAndalucia, with polysyllabic vehemence.
But ere he curled himself up to sleep in the dryest corner of the cave,he burst into a laugh.
"In truth," he said, "she deserves La Perla. For a cleverer wench or aprettier saw I never one!"
The young man's last act before he laid himself down in his new quartershad been to take from his coat the circular disc with the letters "C.V.," the badge of the only Catholic, absolute, and legitimate king.Then, approaching the precipice as nearly as in the uncertain light hedared, he cast it from him in the direction of the Carlist lines.
"Shoot whom you will at sunrise, queen or camp-wench, king or knave," hemuttered, "you shall not have Adrian Zumaya of Vitoria to put a bulletthrough!"
So easily was allegiance laid down or taken up in these civil wars ofSpain. And that night it was noised abroad through all the camp thatyoung Zumaya of the Estella regiment of cavalry had taken his horse andgone off with the pretty _Senorita_ whom he had been set to watch.
Upon which half his comrades envied him, and the other half hoped hewould be captured, saying, "It will be bad for Adrian Zumaya of theEstella regiment if he comes again within the clutches of our excellentDon Ramon Cabrera."
And this was a fact of which the aforesaid Adrian himself wasexceedingly well aware. But the most curious point about the wholematter is that when he awoke late next morning he found the sun shiningbrilliantly into the mouth of the cave. The camp had vanished. There wasa haze of sulphur in the air which bit his nostrils, and lo! beneathhim, on a little plot of coarse green grass and hill-plants, acream-coloured horse was quietly feeding.
"It is my own Perla!" he cried, as, careless of danger, he hasteneddown. There was a red object attached to the mare's bridle. He wentround and detached a red _boina_, to which was pinned a scrap of paper.Upon it was written these words:
"_I hope you have not missed either of the objects herewith returned. They served me nobly. I send my best thanks for the loan.--C. C._"
"That is very well," said the young man, smiling as he mounted hishorse, "but all the same, had my heels not served me better than myhead, your best thanks, pretty mistress, had come too late. They wouldnot have kept me from biting the dust at sunrise with half a dozenbullets in my gizzard, instead of waking here comfortably on an emptystomach. Well, I suppose I must don the cap of liberty now and be a_chapelgorri_. It is a pity. 'Tis not one half so becoming as the_boina_ to one of my complexion."
Then Adrian Zumaya, late of the Estella regiment of Carlist horse,meditated a little longer upon the mutability of all earthly affairs.
"Yet perhaps that is just as well!" he added. "It is ever my hard fateto lose my head where a woman is concerned."
For he thought how the last admirer of his red _boina_ had served him.So with a little sigh of regret he tossed it into the first juniperbush, and tying a kerchief about his head in the manner of theCristinos, rode forth light-heartedly to seek his fate, like a truesoldier of _fortune_.
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