'Of the same complaint?'

'Of the same complaint,' answered the General softly. He slipped
his hand within Conyngham's arm, and thus affectionately led him
across the patio towards the doorway where sentinels stood at
attention. He acknowledged the attitude of his subordinates by a
friendly nod; indeed, this rosy-faced warrior seemed to brim over
with the milk of human kindness.

'The English,' he said, pressing his companion's arm, 'have been too
useful to us for me to allow one of them to remain a moment longer
in confinement. You say you were comfortable. I hope they gave you
a clean towel and all that.'

'Yes, thanks,' answered Conyngham, suppressing a desire to laugh.

'That is well. Ronda is a pleasant place, as you will find. Most
interesting--Moorish remains, you understand. I will send my
servant for your baggage, and of course my poor house is at your
disposal. You will stay with me until we can find some work for you
to do. You wish to take service with us, of course?'

'Yes,' answered Conynghamn. 'Rather thought of it--if you will have
me.'

The General glanced up at his stalwart companion with a measuring
eye.

'My house,' he said, in a conversational way, as if only desirous of
making matters as pleasant as possible in a life which nature had