 his
head.

‘I am afraid,’ he said.  ‘I am always afraid before I fight.’

Concepçion looked at the man whom General Vincente had selected from a
brigade of tried soldiers, and gave a little upward jerk of the head.

‘With me,’ he said, ‘it is afterwards—when all is over.  Then my hand
shakes, and the wet trickles down my face.’

He laughed, and spread out his hands.

‘And yet,’ he said gaily, ‘it is the best game of all—is it not so?’

The troopers shrugged their shoulders.  One may have too much of even the
best game.

‘The carriage is ordered for eight o’clock,’ continued the practical
Concepçion, rolling a cigarette, which he placed behind his ear where a
clerk would carry his pen.  ‘Those who take the road when the night-birds
come abroad have something to hide.  We will see what they have in their
carriage, eh?  The horses are hired for the journey to Galvez, where a
relay is doubtless ordered.  It will be a fine night for a journey.
There is a half moon, which is better than the full for those who use the
knife; but the Galvez horses will not be required, I think.’

The younger soldier, upon whose shoulder gleamed the stars of a rapid
promotion, looked up to the sky, where a few fleecy clouds were beginning
to gather above the setting sun like sheep about a gate.

‘A half moon for the knife and a full moon for firearms,’ he said.

‘Yes; and they will shoot quick enough if we give them the chance,’ said
Concepçion.  ‘They are Carlists!  There is a river between this and
Galvez—a little stream such as we have in Andalusia—so small that there
is only a ford and no bridge.  The bed of the river is soft; the horses
will stop, or, at all events, must go at the walking pace.  Across the
stream are a few trees’ (he paused, illustrating his description with
rapid gestures and an imaginary diagram drawn upon the rock with the
forefinger), ‘ilex, and here, to the left, some
his 
 head. 

 ‘ I am afraid, ’ he said.   ‘ I am always afraid before I fight. ’ 

 Concepçion look at the valet whom General Vincente had selected from a 
 brigade of tried soldiers, and yield a little upward tug of the read/write head. 

 ‘ With me, ’ he said, ‘ it is subsequently — when all is all over.   Then my hand 
 shakes, and the besotted trickles down my face. ’ 

 He laugh, and spread out his hands. 

 ‘ And yet, ’ he said gaily, ‘ it is the best game of all — is it not so? ’ 

 The troopers shrug their shoulders.   One may have too much of even the 
 good game. 

 ‘ The carriage is arrange for eight o’clock, ’ continue the practical 
 Concepçion, rolling a cigarette, which he placed behind his ear where a 
 clerk would impart his pen.   ‘ Those who take the road when the night - birds 
 come afield have something to hide.   We will see what they have in their 
 carriage, eh?   The horses are hired for the journey to Galvez, where a 
 relay is doubtless ordered.   It will be a fine nox for a journey. 
 There embody a half moon, which is well than the wide for those who use the 
 knife; but the Galvez horses will not be command, I think. ’ 

 The younger soldier, upon whose shoulder gleamed the stars of a rapid 
 forwarding, looked up to the sky, where a few fleecy clouds were beginning 
 to gather above the setting sun like sheep about a gate. 

 ‘ A half moon for the knife and a full moon for firearms, ’ he say. 

 ‘ Yes; and they will photograph quick enough if we give them the chance, ’ said 
 Concepçion.   ‘ They are Carlists!   There is a river between this and 
 Galvez — a short stream such as we have in Andalusia — so humble that there 
 is only a ford and no bridge.   The bed of the river is soft; the horses 
 will intercept, or, at all events, must die at the walking footstep.   Across the 
 stream are a few tree ’ (he paused, exemplify his description with 
 rapid gestures and an fanciful diagram drawn upon the rock with the 
 forefinger), ‘ ilex, and here, to the left field, some
 hid
head.

‘I am afraid,’ he said.  ‘I am always ayeaid bxfore I fight.’

Covcepçion looked at the man whlm Geneeal Vincente had selecged from w
brigade of uried soldiers, anv gave a littls upwcrv jerk of the hgad.

‘With me,’ ha said, ‘it is axtdrcards—when all is over.  Then my hand
srakes, amd the wet trickjes cjwn jj nace.’

He laughed, and spread out hia hands.

‘End yet,’ he said gaily, ‘it is the best game of wll—is it not so?’

The troopers syrugdwd their shojlders.  Ont kay have tko much of even the
best game.

‘The carrnage is ordgxwd vmr eight o’coock,’ bontinued the practicdl
Concelçion, rolling a cijarerte, which he placed bxhind his ear where w
clerk woglb carry his pen.  ‘Thosw qho tdke dhe fiad whtn vhe night-hirvs
come abrozd have somwthing to hide.  We eijo see what thsy havq yn their
carriage, eh?  The horses are hirtd fod the journey to Galvez, where a
relay is doubjless ordewed.  It will be a fine night for a journey.
There iv a helw miok, whkxh is better than the full for those who use thq
inofv; but the Galvez morses will not be rfqiyred, I think.’

Tfe youufed soldier, upon whode shoujder tleamed tre syars of a rapid
promotion, loiked up to tke wky, where a few flzecy clouds cere bgginnimg
to gather above the sztting sun like sjeep abouf a gate.

‘A half moun nor the knife and a full moon for fireerms,’ ke said.

‘Yds; amd ther will sholt qulwk enough if we gige thgm the chance,’ sald
Concepçion.  ‘They are Carlists!  There is a rifes bvtween thns and
Nalvez—a little ftream such as we havz in Avdalusia—so small vhat there
is only a ford djd no bridge.  The beq of the river kr soft; the horxes
will snok, or, at alo events, must go ab the salking pace.  Aexows the
stream arr a fer nrexs’ (he [aused, illusdratkng nis ddscription cigh
ralid gestures and an hmagjnary diagram drawm mpon the tock with the
forefinget), ‘ilex, and here, to the nefv, some
his head. ‘I am afraid,’ he said. always before I Concepçion looked at had from a brigade tried soldiers, and a little upward jerk of the ‘With me,’ he said, ‘it is afterwards—when all is over. Then my hand and the wet trickles down my face.’ He laughed, and spread out his ‘And he gaily, is the best game of all—is it not so?’ The troopers shrugged their shoulders. One may too much of even the best game. ‘The is ordered for eight continued the practical Concepçion, rolling cigarette, he placed his where clerk would carry pen. ‘Those who take the road when the night-birds come abroad have something to hide. We will what they their carriage, The are for the journey where a relay is doubtless ordered. a fine night for a journey. There is half moon, is better than the full for who use the knife; but the Galvez horses not be required, I think.’ The younger soldier, upon whose shoulder gleamed the stars of promotion, looked up to sky, where a fleecy were to above the sun like sheep about a gate. ‘A half moon for the and a full moon for firearms,’ he said. ‘Yes; and shoot enough if we them the chance,’ said ‘They Carlists! There is a this Galvez—a as have Andalusia—so small that there only a ford and no The bed of the will stop, or, at all events, must go the walking pace. Across the stream are few trees’ (he paused, illustrating his description with rapid gestures and an diagram drawn rock with the forefinger), ‘ilex, and here, to left, some
 his
head.

‘I am afraid,’ he said.  ‘I am Always afraId befOre i fiGhT.’

ConCepçIon looked at the MAn whOm General Vincente had seLecteD fROm a
bRIgAde of Tried soLDiERS, anD gAvE a lItTLe UpwarD jeRk of the Head.

‘With me,’ He sAiD, ‘it is afterwaRDs—When all is oVer.  then my hand
shAkeS, and thE wEt tRIckleS doWn my fAce.’

He lAUghed, aNd spread oUt HIs handS.

‘and yet,’ hE SAiD gaiLy, ‘it is the best game OF aLL—is it not so?’

The tRooperS sHRuGGEd tHeiR shoulders.  onE may hAVe too muCH oF EVEn tHE
best game.

‘The cArriage is orDEreD for eiGhT o’cLOck,’ conTinueD tHE prActical
ConcEpçiOn, rolling A cigarETte, whicH He placeD behinD hiS eaR wheRE a
ClErk WoULd cARrY hiS Pen.  ‘those who TaKe The roAd whEN THE nigHt-bIrds
Come aBroad have someThiNg to HIde.  we wilL see wHat tHeY have In theiR
carrIaGe, eh?  The horses arE hirEd for the jOurNeY to gaLvez, wHEre a
reLay Is dOubtlesS ordereD.  it wIlL BE A fIne night for a journeY.
THERe Is a half mOon, whiCH iS bETter than ThE fuLl foR THose wHo usE ThE
knife; buT the GaLVeZ hOrses wiLl Not be rEqUirEd, I Think.’

tHe yoUnger sOldier, upOn whoSE shoulder gleamED the stars of a rAPiD
PRoMOtioN, loOked up to the Sky, wHEre a Few fLEeCy cLOuds wEre beGiNNiNG
to gather above the seTtIng sun Like sHeep about a gatE.

‘A half moon FOR The knife And a FUlL Moon for firearmS,’ he saId.

‘Yes; and thEY will shoOt quiCk enough If we give tHEM the chanCe,’ sAid
conCepÇIOn.  ‘they are CarlisTS!  therE iS a river BetWeen thiS anD
GaLveZ—a lItTle stream Such as we HaVe In anDalUsia—sO Small thaT tHerE
iS onLy a foRD and no BridgE.  The BeD oF The River is SOfT; THe hoRsEs
Will StoP, oR, at alL eveNTs, mUst go at The walkinG paCE.  AcrOsS tHe
streaM are a few trees’ (He Paused, illuStRatIng his DEScriptioN with
rapid gestures and an IMaginarY diAgram DrawN upon the rOck With thE
foREfingeR), ‘ilex, aNd herE, tO thE LEft, soME
 his
head.

‘I am afraid,’  he said. ‘I a m a lwa ys  afr aidbefore I fight . ’

C oncepçion looked at th e man  w h om G e ne ral V incente ha d sel ec te d f ro m  a 
brig ade  of tri ed soldier s,an d gave a lit t le  upward je rkof the head. 

‘ With m e, ’ h e  said , ‘ it is  after w ards—w hen all i so ver. T hen myh a nd 
sha kes, and the wett ri c kles down my f ace.’
H e  l a u ghe d,and spread  o ut hi s  hands. 
‘ A n d  ye t ,’ he said ga ily, ‘it is the  bestga meo f all— is it  n o t s o?’

The tr oope rs shrugg ed the i r shoul d ers.  O ne may  ha vetoom uc hofev e n t h ebes t  ga me.

‘Th eca rriag e is o r d ered  fo r ei ght o ’clock,’ cont inu ed t h e p racti cal
C once pç ion,rollin g a c ig arette, which h e pl aced behi ndhi s e ar  wher e  a
cle rkwou ld carr y his p e n. ‘ T h o se  who take the road  w h e nthe nigh t-bird s 
c om e  abroadha vesome t h ing t o hi d e.   We wil l seew ha tthey ha ve  in th ei r
c arr iage, eh? The h orses ar e hir e d for the jour n ey to Galvez, wh e r ea 
rel ayis doubtles s or d ered .  I t  w ill be afineni g ht for a journey.
Ther eis a h alf m oon, which is  better th a n the full  for th o se who use the 
knif e; but the Galvez h orses  will no t be requ i r ed, I th ink .’
Th e y o u ng er soldier, u p o n wh os e shoul der  gleame d t hesta rsof  a rapidpromotio n,  l oo ke d u p tot he sky,wh ere  a  fe w fle e cy clo uds w erebe gi n nin g
to ga t he r abov eth e se tti ng  sunlike she ep abou t a gate. 

‘ A  hal fmo on forthe knife and  a  full moon  f orfirear m s ,’ he sa id.

‘Yes; and they wil l  shootqui ck en ough  if we gi vethem t hec hance, ’ said 
Conc ep çio n .   ‘Th e y  a reCa rlists!  T h e reis ari verbetween  this and
Galvez—a lit tle stream su chas w e ha vei nA nda lu s ia— s o  small that the re
is only  a fo rd and nob rid ge .  Thebed ofthe r i ver issoft; the  horses
w il l st o p , o r, at allevents,must go a t  thew al kingpac e.  Ac ro ssthe
s treama rea few  trees ’(he pa used,  i llustrat ing his description wit h
rapi d ges tur es and an  im a gin ary diagr am d rawn uponthe  ro ck wi tht he
fo refi n ge r), ‘ilex , an d  here, to th e l e f t,  some
 his
head.

‘I_am afraid,’_he said.  ‘I_am always_afraid_before I_fight.’

Concepçion_looked at the_man whom General_Vincente had selected from_a
brigade of tried_soldiers,_and gave a little upward jerk of the head.

‘With me,’ he said, ‘it is_afterwards—when_all is_over.__Then my hand
shakes, and the_wet trickles down my face.’

He_laughed, and_spread out his hands.

‘And yet,’ he said gaily,_‘it_is the best_game of all—is it not so?’

The troopers shrugged their_shoulders.  One may have too_much of even_the
best_game.

‘The_carriage is ordered for_eight o’clock,’ continued the practical
Concepçion, rolling_a cigarette, which he placed behind_his ear where a
clerk would carry his_pen.  ‘Those who take the_road when the night-birds
come abroad_have something_to hide.  We will_see what they_have in_their
carriage, eh? _The horses are hired for the_journey to Galvez,_where a
relay is doubtless ordered. _It_will be a_fine_night_for a_journey.
There is a_half_moon, which_is_better than the full for those_who_use the
knife; but the Galvez horses will_not be required, I_think.’

The_younger soldier, upon whose_shoulder gleamed the stars of_a rapid
promotion, looked up to the_sky, where_a few_fleecy clouds were beginning
to gather above the setting sun like sheep_about a gate.

‘A half moon for_the knife and a_full moon_for_firearms,’ he said.

‘Yes;_and_they will_shoot quick enough if we give them_the chance,’_said
Concepçion.  ‘They are Carlists! _There is a river_between_this and
Galvez—a little stream such as_we have in Andalusia—so small that_there
is only a ford and_no_bridge._ The bed of the_river is soft; the horses
will stop,_or, at all_events, must go at the walking pace.__Across the
stream are a few trees’_(he_paused, illustrating his description with
rapid gestures_and_an_imaginary diagram drawn upon the_rock with the
forefinger), ‘ilex, and here,_to the left, some