The Firebrand   By: Samuel R. Crockett (1860-1914)

by

S. R. CROCKETT

London Macmillan and Co., Limited New York: The Macmillan Company 1901

All rights reserved

Printed by William Clowes and Sons, Limited, London and Beccles.

Copyright in the United States of America by S. R. Crockett, 1901.

CONTENTS

I. THE MAKING OF AN OUTLAW

II. THE MAN WITHOUT A FRIEND

III. COCK O' THE NORTH

IV. A LITTLE COMB CUTTING

V. THE ABBEY OF MONTBLANCH

VI. BROTHER HILARIO

VII. THE ABBOT'S DINNER

VIII. SANCTUARY

IX. THE SHADOW OF THE DESTROYER

X. A MAN AND HIS PRICE

XI. CARTEL OF DEFIANCE

XII. THE CRYING OF A YOUNG CHILD

XIII. DON TOMAS DIGS A GRAVE

XIV. THE HOLY INNOCENTS

XV. ROLLO INTERVENES

XVI. DON LUIS IS WILLING

XVII. A GRAVE IRREGULARITY

XVIII. A FLUTTER OF RED AND WHITE

XIX. SIGNALS OF STORM

XX. THE BUTCHER OF TORTOSA

XXI. TO BE SHOT AT SUNRISE!

XXII. HIS MOTHER'S ROSARY

XXIII. THE BURNING OF THE MILL HOUSE

XXIV. HOW TO BECOME A SOLDIER

XXV. THE MISSION OF THE SEÑORITA CONCHA

XXVI. DEEP ROMANY

XXVII. THE SERGEANT AND LA GIRALDA

XXVIII. THE DEAD AND THE LIVING

XXIX. A LITTLE QUEEN AT HOME

XXX. PALACE BURGLARS

XXXI. THE QUEEN'S ANTE CHAMBER

XXXII. LIKE A FALLING STAR

XXXIII. CONCHA WAITS FOR THE MORNING

XXXIV. OUR ROLLO TO THE RESCUE

XXXV. THE EXECUTIONER OF SALAMANCA

XXXVI. THE DEATH CART

XXXVII. THE DEAD STAND SENTINEL

XXXVIII. CONCHA SAYS AMEN

XXXIX. A HANDFUL OF ROSES

XL. ALL DANDIES ARE NOT COWARDS

XLI. ROLLO USES A LITTLE PERSUASION

XLII. A SNARE NOT SPREAD IN VAIN

XLIII. THE RED BOINAS OF NAVARRE

XLIV. "FOR ROLLO'S SAKE"

XLV. FORLORNEST HOPES

XLVI. THE SERGEANT'S LAST SALUTE

XLVII. MENDIZÁBAL

XLVIII. A POINT OF HONOUR

XLIX. LIKE FIRE THROUGH SUMMER GRASS

L. AVE CONCHA IMPERATRIX

THE FIREBRAND

CHAPTER I

THE MAKING OF AN OUTLAW

Ramon Garcia, called El Sarria, lay crouched like a wild beast. And he was a wild beast. Yet he smiled as he blinked into the midnoon heat, under his shaggy brows, from his den beneath the great rock of limestone that shadowed him.

El Sarria was hunted, and there was on his hands the blood of a man to be more particular, on his left hand. For El Sarria had smitten hard and eager, so soon as he had seen Rafael de Flores Rafael, the pretty boy, the cousin of his young wife, between whom and her relative there was at least cousinly affection. So the neighbours said, all but Manuela, the priest's housekeeper.

So Ramon smote and wiped his Manchegan knife on his vest, in the place under the flap at the left side where he had often wiped it before. He used the same gesture as when he killed a sheep.

In his cave of limestone Ramon was going over the scene in his own mind. That is why he licked his lips slowly and smiled. A tiger does that when after a full meal he moves the loose skin over his neck twitchy ways and yawns with over fed content. And Ramon, even though hunted, did the same.

When he married little Dolóres, Ramon Garcia had not dreamed that so many things would happen. He was a rich man as men go; had his house, his garden, his vines, a quintaine of olive trees, was accounted quite a match by old Manuela, the village go between, the priest's housekeeper, in whose hands were the hearts of many maids.

These things he, Don Ramon Garcia, had possessed (he was called Don then) and now he had his knife and the long, well balanced gun which was placed across the rests in the dryest part of the cavern.