McKay disdained to notice these threats, and, after waiting a little longer in the hope of again seeing Mariquita, he left the house.

It was his misfortune, however, not to get speech with her again before his departure.  The few short days intervening before embarkation were full of anxiety for him, and incessant, almost wearisome, activity.  He had made himself one moment of leisure, and visited Bombardier Lane, but without result.  Mariquita was invisible, and McKay was compelled to abandon all hope of bidding his dear one good-bye.

But he was not denied one last look at the girl of his heart.  As the regiment, headed by all the bands of the garrison, marched gaily down to the New Mole, where the transport-ship awaited it, an excited throng of spectators lined the way.  Colonel Blythe headed his regiment, of course, and close behind him, according to regulation, marched the young sergeant-major, in brave apparel, holding his head high, proudly conscious of his honourable position.  The colonel and the sergeant-major were the first men down the New Mole stairs; and as they passed McKay heard his name uttered with a half-scream.

He looked round hastily, and there saw Mariquita, with white, scared face and streaming eyes.

What could he do?  It was his duty to march on unconscious, insensible to emotion.  But this was more than mortal man could do.  He paused, lingering irresolutely, when the colonel noticed his agitation, and quickly guessed the exact state of the case.

“‘The girl I left behind me,’ eh, sergeant-major?  Well, fall out for a minute or two, if you like”—­and, with this kindly and considerate permission, McKay took Mariquita aside to make his last adieux.

“Adios! vida mia” [good-bye, my life], he was saying, when the poor girl almost fainted in his arms.

He looked round, greatly perplexed, and happily his eye fell upon Sergeant Hyde.

“Here, Hyde,” he said, “take charge of this dear girl.”

“What! sergeant-major, have you been caught in the toils of one of these bright-eyed damsels?  It is well we have got the route.  They are dangerous cattle, these women; and, if you let them, will hang like a mill-stone round a soldier’s neck.”

“Pshaw! man, don’t moralise.  This girl is my heart’s choice.  Please Heaven I may return to console her for present sorrow.  But I can’t wait.  Help me:  I can trust you.  See Mariquita safely back to her home, and then join us on board.”

“I shall be taken up as a deserter.”

“Nonsense!  I will see to that with the adjutant.  We do not sail for two hours at least; you will have plenty of time.”

Sergeant Hyde, although unwillingly, accepted the trust, and thus met Mariquita for the first time.

CHAPTER X.

A GENERAL ACTION.

A long low line of coast trending along north and south as far as the eye could reach; nearest at hand a strip of beach, smooth shingle cast up by the surf of westerly gales; next, a swelling upland, dotted with grazing cattle, snug homesteads, and stacks of hay and corn; beyond, a range of low hills, steep-faced and reddish-hued.