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Terry released his head completely, and now, as though in scorn refusing to break into his sweeping gallop, El Sangre flung himself ahead to the full of his natural pace. And the gray came back steadily. The town was shoving up at them at the end of the road more and more clearly. The rider of the gray began to curse.

The father groaned aloud and closed his eyes; when he opened them, hundreds of iron-mailed mutineers had scaled the rampart. Beneath their feet lay his bleeding child. Corpse after corpse sank on the stone wall beside the fallen man, but the iron wedge of the Spaniards pressed farther and farther forward. "Espana, a sangre, a carne!"

Captain Blood took the pipe-stem from between his lips. "My name," he said, "is Peter Blood. The Spaniards know me for Don Pedro Sangre and a Frenchman may call me Le Sang if he pleases." "Good," said the gaudy adventurer in English, and without further invitation he drew up a stool and sat down at that greasy table.

Among these, however, were some not unworthy to be perceived by him; and besides these, there were some foreign officers; one in particular, from Spain, of high rank and birth, of the sangre azul, the blue blood, who have the privilege of the silken cord if they should come to be hanged.

And still in fear of himself he swung El Sangre and put him down the slope recklessly. Never in his life had he ridden as he rode in those first five minutes down the pitch of the hill. He gave El Sangre his head to pick his own way, and he confined his efforts to urging the great stallion along.

We know it will be objected to this remark that Disraeli is, and has been for most of his career, associated with Toryism. But that was part of his game. A man of culture, thought and fastidious taste, he would, had he been of the sangre azul, have been the steadiest and sincerest of Conservatives. Privilege would have been his gospel.

Why scour the crowded Alps when the snowy domes of the Santa Fe and Jemez and Sangre de Christo lie unexplored only an easy motor ride from your hotel?"

Terence, before you grow up you'll have sore toes from stumbling, take my word for it! Do you know what a wise man would do?" "Well?" "Go out and start a terrific flirtation with Nelly." "For the sake of experience?" sighed Terence. "Good heavens!" groaned Aunt Elizabeth. "Terry, you're impossible! Where are you going now?" "Out to see El Sangre."

The report and the concussion of the shots seemed to throw him at once from ungovernable rage into idiotic stupor. He stood with drooping jaw and stony eyes. What had he done, Sangre de Dios! What had he done? He was basely appalled at his impulsive act, sealing for ever these lips from which so much was to be extorted. What could he say? How could he explain?

Then, after a pause at the pretty town of Salida, with the magnificent range of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in full sight, they began to mount the pass over long loops of rail, which doubled and re-doubled on themselves again and again on their way to the summit.