The quiet, slow eyes had alone seen into the hearts of the wild Navarrese mountaineers and knew the way to rule them.
It may be thought that their small number made the task an easy one.

But it must also be remembered that these mountain slopes have given to the world the finest guerilla soldiers that history has known, and are peopled by one of the untamed races of mankind.
Moreover, Marcos de Sarrion was a restful man.

And those few who see below the surface, know that the restful man is he whose life's task is well within the compass of his ability.
Perro, it seemed, with an intelligence developed at the best and hardest of all schools, where hunger is the usher, awaited, not word, but action from his master; and had not long to wait.
For Marcos rose and slowly climbed the hill towards Torre Garda, half hidden amid the pine trees on the mountain crest above him.

There was a midnight train, he knew, from Pampeluna to Saragossa.

The railway station was only twenty miles away, which is to this day considered quite a convenient distance in Navarre.