gone by had been pierced by the bullets of the Moors–said, his fists clenched and his eyes flashing like a mitrailleuse:
"'Ah! that Zucarraga! that Zucarraga! that wretch of a Zucarraga! I would give my skin for his! And there is a fortune waiting for the man that kills him!'
“He was beside himself with rage, shedding bitter tears to see his regiments melting away like the snow among these defiles. It seemed to him as if all those brave boys that lay scattered along the roadside were children of his own whom he had lost, whom some one had taken from him and slaughtered. And who had done this? Zucarraga, Zucarraga’s Basques, the Carlists!
“The words were scarcely out of old Garrido’s mouth when, there on that Place that was swarming with troops, upon which the shades of night were descending, a tall, good-looking young fellow stepped forward and planted himself in front of the general's staff and, looking the old officer straight in the eye, brusquely said:
"'If I should kill Zucarraga, would you give me whatever I might ask you for?'
"'Who are you?' said Garrido.
"'Juan Araquil, a lad of this neighborhood. A man who is not afraid of death, but who has sworn that he will be rich.'
“The general eyed the man from head to foot. 'You are from Guipuzcoa? How is it that you are not with the army of Don Carlos?'
"'Because there is nothing that I care for in this world, excepting a woman whom I love.'
