In Spain there once lived two men each of whom claimed to be the rightful king. I do not remember their names, the time was so long ago, but to make the story easier to tell, let us call one Alfonso and the other John. Of course John declared that Alfonso was a traitor, and Alfonso said that John was a rebel and must be put down. At last, in a great battle, John overthrew his rival and made himself master of the country. But one strong town which Alfonso had intrusted to a knight called Aguilar still held out, and although John besieged it with all his army, he could not take it.

“You have done enough for honor,” said King John one day to the knight. “Come, open the gates of the town to my army, and I promise that you shall not suffer.”

“If you had read the history of our country,” answered Aguilar, “you would have learned that no man of my family ever surrenders.”

“Then I will starve you where you are!”

“Starve the eagle if you can,” said the knight.

“I will put you and your town to the sword.”

“Try it,” was the reply, and the siege went on.

One morning, as the rising sun was beginning to gild with its rays the highest towers of the city, a trumpet sounded in the camp of the enemy. It was the signal for a parley. The old knight soon appeared on the wall and looked down on the king.

“Surrender,” said King John again. “My rival Alfonso is dead, and our dispute is ended.”

“Sir,” said the knight, “I believe that you speak the truth, but I must see my dead master.”

“Go, then, to Seville, where his body lies,” said the king. “You have my word that no harm shall befall you.”

The knight came out with banners flying and an escort of a few half-starved warriors. As he rode slowly along, the soldiers who knew of his courage and his many brave deeds, greeted him with loud shouts and gazed after him until the red plume above his helmet disappeared in the distance.

As soon as he reached Seville, he went straight to the great church where he was told the body of his master was still lying in its open coffin. Gazing awhile with tearful eyes at the pale face which met his look, he thus spoke to the dead Alfonso: “Sir, I promised never to surrender to any one but yourself the keys of the town which you intrusted to my care. Here they are. I have kept my promise.” With that, he laid the keys on the breast of his master, and then, mounting his steed, he galloped back to his post.

“Well,” said the king, “are you satisfied, and are you willing to give up?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

“But where are the keys of the town?”

“I have delivered them to my master, King Alfonso, and of him you may get them. Now I ride on, and we shall meet no more.”

“Not so,” said the king. “You shall hold the town for me and be its governor in my name.”

The followers of the king murmured, and complained at his thus rewarding a rebel. “He is no longer a rebel,” said King John; “such men when won, become the best of subjects.”

—Charles E. A. GayarrÉ.