[CHAPTER I. THE MAKING OF AN OUTLAW]
[CHAPTER II. THE MAN WITHOUT A FRIEND]
[CHAPTER III. COCK O' THE NORTH]
[CHAPTER IV. A LITTLE COMB-CUTTING]
[CHAPTER V. THE ABBEY OF MONTBLANCH]
[CHAPTER VI. BROTHER HILARIO]
[CHAPTER VII. THE ABBOT'S DINNER]
[CHAPTER VIII. SANCTUARY]
[CHAPTER IX. THE SHADOW OF THE DESTROYER]
[CHAPTER X. A MAN AND HIS PRICE]
[CHAPTER XI. CARTEL OF DEFIANCE]
[CHAPTER XII. THE CRYING OF A YOUNG CHILD]
[CHAPTER XIII. DON TOMAS DIGS A GRAVE]
[CHAPTER XIV. THE HOLY INNOCENTS]
[CHAPTER XV. ROLLO INTERVENES]
[CHAPTER XVI. DON LUIS IS WILLING]
[CHAPTER XVII. A GRAVE IRREGULARITY]
[CHAPTER XVIII. A FLUTTER OF RED AND WHITE]
[CHAPTER XIX. SIGNALS OF STORM]
[CHAPTER XX. THE BUTCHER OF TORTOSA]
[CHAPTER XXI. TO BE SHOT AT SUNRISE!]
[CHAPTER XXII. HIS MOTHER'S ROSARY]
[CHAPTER XXIII. THE BURNING OF THE MILL-HOUSE]
[CHAPTER XXIV. HOW TO BECOME A SOLDIER]
[CHAPTER XXV. THE MISSION OF THE SEÑORITA CONCHA]
[CHAPTER XXVI. DEEP ROMANY]
[CHAPTER XXVII. THE SERGEANT AND LA GIRALDA]
[CHAPTER XXVIII. THE DEAD AND THE LIVING]
[CHAPTER XXIX. A LITTLE QUEEN AT HOME]
[CHAPTER XXX. PALACE BURGLARS]
[CHAPTER XXXI. THE QUEEN'S ANTE-CHAMBER]
[CHAPTER XXXII. LIKE A FALLING STAR]
[CHAPTER XXXIII. CONCHA WAITS FOR THE MORNING]
[CHAPTER XXXIV. OUR ROLLO TO THE RESCUE]
[CHAPTER XXXV. THE EXECUTIONER OF SALAMANCA]
[CHAPTER XXXVI. THE DEATH-CART]
[CHAPTER XXXVII. THE DEAD STAND SENTINEL]
[CHAPTER XXXVIII. CONCHA SAYS AMEN]
[CHAPTER XXXIX. A HANDFUL OF ROSES]
[CHAPTER XL. ALL DANDIES ARE NOT COWARDS]
[CHAPTER XLI. ROLLO USES A LITTLE PERSUASION]
[CHAPTER XLII. A SNARE NOT SPREAD IN VAIN]
[CHAPTER XLIII. THE RED BOINAS OF NAVARRE]
[CHAPTER XLIV. "FOR ROLLO'S SAKE"]
[CHAPTER XLV. FORLORNEST HOPES]
[CHAPTER XLVI. THE SERGEANT'S LAST SALUTE]
[CHAPTER XLVII. MENDIZÁBAL]
[CHAPTER XLVIII. A POINT OF HONOUR]
[CHAPTER XLIX. LIKE FIRE THROUGH SUMMER GRASS]
[CHAPTER 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.