So to the company about the steaming olla-pot on the hillside, as the twilight deepened, Rollo related the story of his interview with Cabrera. There was no hope in that quarter. So much was certain. If the Queen-Regent and her little daughter could not be delivered before the morning, they would assuredly be murdered.
"You have a plan, I can see that," said the Sergeant, shrewdly, polishing upon a piece of wash-leather the silver spoon which he habitually carried.
"You will aid me in carrying it out if I have?" Thus with equal swiftness came Rollo's cross-question.
A curious smile slowly overspread the gipsy's leathern visage.
"I think," he said slowly, "that all of us here have most to gain by keeping the two queens alive. But I confess I would not be sorry to make the General a present of my gentleman of the dressing-gown!"
Then Rollo, reassured by the Sergeant's words, went on to develop his plans.
"We must obtain sufficient horses to mount the royal party, and one of us must guide the Queen and the others on their way to General Elio's camp. For the horses we will look to you, Sergeant."
"I have done as much under the eyes of an army in broad daylight, let alone at night and on a mountain-side," replied the man of Ronda, calmly, lighting another of his eternal cigarettes.
"Then," continued the young leader, "next we must secure some means of communicating with the prisoners within the house. La Giralda will afford us that. The sentries must first be drawn off, then secured, and with one of us to accompany and guide the party, we must start off the great folk for the camp of General Elio at Vera, where, at least, their persons will be safe, and they will be treated honourably as prisoners of war."
"And who is to accompany them?" inquired the Sergeant, his face like a mask. For he hated the thought that Muñoz should escape a half-dozen Carlist bullets. José Maria the brigand, El Sarria the outlaw—even Cabrera the butcher of Tortosa were in the scheme of things, but this Muñoz—pah!