Last of the Incas: A Romance of the Pampas

Pincheira, as we know, was in Carmen for the purpose of arranging a revolt among the gauchos. As Nocobotha desired to come to an understanding with him as to the decisive attack, he sent towards the town a Chilian deserter who knew how to play the bugle, an instrument quite unused among the Aucas. This bugler bore a white flag in sign of peace, and asked for a parley. He was followed by Churlakin, Lucaney, Metipan, and Chaukata, who were ordered by the great Ulmen to make proposals to the governor of Carmen.

The four ambassadors, standing within half gunshot from the town, with their long lances planted before them, with the ostrich plume, the symbol of their dignity, flying out, were waiting motionless on their horses. Their leather armour was covered with coats of mail made of small rings, which had doubtless belonged to the soldiers of Almagro or Valdivia. The bugler, haughtily standing a few paces in front of them, waved his flag. The chiefs' steeds were armed with rich harness, embroidered with silver plates that sparkled in the sun's beams.

The Spanish pride suffered at the thought of treating on equal terms with these Pagans, to whom they even refused a soul, and whom they did not recognize as men. But it was necessary to gain time; perhaps the reinforcements from Buenos Aires were already under weigh.

The Indian bugler, wearied at receiving no answer to his two first summons, blew a third peal by Churlakin's order. A Spanish bugler at length replied from the interior of the town, and the barrier was opened, leaving a passage for a soldier, who carried a white flag, and was followed by an officer on horseback. This officer, it will be remembered, was Major Bloomfield, who, as an old soldier, was unwilling to appear before the Indians except in his full dress uniform.

He proceeded without hesitation towards the Ulmens, who, through their silver ornaments and their immobility, resembled at a distance equestrian statues.

CHAPTER XVII.
THE ATTACK ON POBLACIÓN DEL SUR

Major Bloomfield, who had made up his mind to lose his life, had no weapons, not even a sword. He halted within hearing distance, and as he spoke decently the Aucas language, which he had learnt in previous campaigns, he had no need of an interpreter.

"What do you want, chiefs?" he asked in a loud, firm voice, with a ceremonious bow.

"Are you the man whom the whites call Don Antonio Valverde, and to whom they give the title of Governor?" Churlakin asked in his turn.

"No; our laws prohibit a governor leaving his post; but I am second in command, and he has sent me to you."

The Indians seemed to consult for a moment; then, leaving their long lances planted in the ground, they advanced towards the old officer, who did not evince the slightest surprise at this movement. Churlakin spoke in the name of all.

"My brother is brave," he said, astonished at the major's coolness.

"At my age," the old man replied, "death is a favour."

"My father bears on his forehead the snow of many winters; he must be one of the wisest chiefs of his nation, and the young men round the council fire listen to him respectfully."

"Say no more about me," the major said; "why have you asked for this interview?"

"Will not my father conduct us to the council fire of his nation?" Churlakin said, in an insinuating tone. "Is it honourable for great warriors, formidable chiefs, thus to discuss serious affairs on horseback between two armies?"

"No chief of the enemy can enter an invested town."

"Does my father fear that our force may take his city?" Churlakin continued with a laugh, though vexed in the highest degree at losing the hope of coming to an understanding with Pincheira.

"I am not accustomed to fear; I only tell you a rule you are ignorant of, that is all. If this pretext is sufficient to break off the interview, you are at liberty to do so, and I will withdraw."

"Oh, Oh! My father is quick for his age. Tell me what brings you here."

The Ulmens exchanged a glance, and a few whispered words. At length Churlakin continued —

"Has my father seen the great army of the Aucas?" he said.

"Yes," the major replied carelessly.

"And has my father, who is a white man and has great learning, counted the warriors?"

"Yes."

"Ah! And how many are they, according to his calculation?"

"Their number is but of slight consequence to us."

"Still," the Indian pressed, "does my father know how many they may be?"

"Two hundred thousand at the most."

The chiefs were struck by the negligent way in which the major doubled the strength of their army.

"My father," Churlakin continued, "is not terrified at the number of these warriors who obey a single chief."

"Why should I be so?" the major said, whose attention the surprise of the Ulmens had not escaped, "Has not my nation vanquished more numerous armies? But we are losing our time in useless words, chief."

"My father must have patience."

"Finish your Indian circumlocutions then."

"The army of the great nations is encamped in front of Carmen, in order to obtain satisfaction for all the wrongs the palefaces have made us endure since their invasion of America."

"Explain yourself clearly. Why do you invade our frontiers? Have we failed in our engagements? Of what do you complain?"

"My father pretends to be ignorant of the just motives for war we have against the whites. His nation has made a treaty with the white men who dwell on the other side of the mountains, and who are our enemies; hence, his nation has no friendship for us."

"Chief, this quarrel is ridiculous. Confess that you desire to plunder our farms, steal our cattle and horses, and I can understand you; but if we were at war with Chili, you would act in the same way. The jest has lasted too long; let us come to facts. What do you want?"

"My father is clever," Churlakin said, with a laugh. "Listen! this is what the chiefs say – 'The Negro Ulmen, against our rights and his own, sold to my father's ancestors a land which did not belong to him, without the consent of the other Ulmens of the country.'"

"What next?" said the major.

"The chiefs assembled round the tree of Gualichu have resolved to give back to the great white chief all the objects from the first to the last formerly given to the Negro Ulmen, and take back the country which belongs to them."

"Is that all?"

"All."

"How long do the chiefs give the Governor of Carmen to discuss these propositions?"

"From sunrise to sunset."

"Very good," the old officer said, ironically; "and supposing that the governor refuses, what will my sons do?"

"The colony of the white men will be destroyed by fire, their warriors massacred, and their wives and children carried off into slavery."

"I will transmit your demands to the governor, and tomorrow at sunset, you will have his answer. You will, however, suspend hostilities till then?"

"Keep on your guard."

"Thanks for your frankness, chief; I am delighted to meet an Indian who is not an utter scoundrel. Good-bye till tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" the chief repeated, courteously, and involuntarily affected by the old gentleman's noble bearing.

The major withdrew slowly to the barricades, where the colonel, alarmed by the long interview, had made all preparations to avenge the death of his old friend.

"Well?" he said, as he pressed his hand.

"They are trying to gain time," the major answered, "in order to play us one of their demon's tricks."

"What do they demand, though?"

"Impossibilities, colonel, and they are well aware of it, for they appeared to be laughing at us, when they submitted their absurd demands to me. The Negro cacique, they say, had no right to sell his territory, which they also say we must return to them in twenty-four hours, and then came the bede-roll of their usual threats. Ah! That is not all; they are ready to repay us all that the Negro cacique received for the sale of his lands."

"Why," Don Antonio interrupted, "the fellows must be mad."

"No, colonel, they are robbers."

At this moment, tremendous shouts were heard at the barriers, and the two officers hurried up in all haste.

Four or five thousand horses, apparently free but whose invisible riders were concealed, according to the Indian fashion, along their flanks, were coming at a frightful pace against the barricades. Two rounds of canister produced disorder in their ranks, without checking their speed, and they fell like lightning on the defenders of Población del Sur. Then began one of those terrific fights of the Indian frontier, a cruel and indescribable contest, in which no prisoners were made, the bolas perdidas, the laquis, the bayonet, and the lance, were their sole weapons. The Indians were immediately reinforced, but the Spaniards did not give way an inch. This desperate struggle lasted for about two hours; the Patagonians seemed to give ground, and the Argentines redoubled their efforts to drive them back to their camp, when, suddenly, the cry was heard behind them —

"Treachery! Treachery!"

The major and the colonel, who were fighting in the front rank of the soldiers and volunteers, turned round; they were caught between two fires.

Pincheira, dressed in the uniform of a Chilian officer, was prancing at the head of a hundred gauchos, more or less intoxicated, who followed him, yelling —

"Pillage! Pillage!"

The two veteran officers exchanged a long, sad glance, and their determination was formed in a second.

The colonel hurled among the Indians a barrel of gunpowder, with a lighted fuse, which swept them off, as the wind sweeps the dust, and put them to flight. The Argentines, at the major's command, wheeled round and charged the gauchos, commanded by Pincheira. These bandits, with their sabres and bolas in their hands, dashed at the Argentines, who slipped into the open doors of the abandoned houses, in a narrow street, where the gauchos could not manoeuvre their horses. The Argentines, who were skilful marksmen, did not throw away a shot; they fell back on the river bank, and kept up a well-sustained fire on the gauchos, who had turned back, and on the Aucas, who had again escaladed the barricades, while the guns of the fort scattered canister and death among them.

The white men crossed the river without any risk, and their enemies installed themselves in the Población del Sur, filling the air with triumphant hurrahs.

The colonel ordered considerable works to be thrown up on the river bank, and placed in them two batteries, of six guns each whose fire crossed.

Through the treachery of the gauchos the Indians had seized Población del Sur, which, however, was not the key of the place; but this negative success entailed an enormous loss upon them. The colonists, through this, saw their communications interrupted with the estancias on the opposite bank, but luckily the farmers had come into Upper Carmen beforehand with their horses and cattle, and the boats were all moored under the batteries of the fort which protected them. The suburb captured by the assailants was, consequently, entirely empty.

On one side, the Argentines congratulated themselves at having no longer to defend a dangerous and useless post; on the other, the Aucas asked themselves of what good this dearly acquired suburb would prove to them.

Three gauchos, during the fight, were dragged from their horses by the Argentines and made prisoners. One of them was Pincheira, the second Panchito, and the third a man of the name of Diego. A council of war, assembled in the open air, sentenced them to the gallows.

"Well, Diego," asked Panchito, "where is Pincheira?"

"The scoundrel has escaped," honest Panchito replied; "deserter from the army, deserter from the gallows! That is the way in which he breaks all his engagements. He will come to a very bad end."

"Our affair seems clear enough," Diego said with a sigh.

"Nonsense! A little sooner or a little later, what's the odds?"

"The gallows seems to tickle your fancy, Panchito."

"Not exactly," the other answered; "but for four generations my family have been hanged, from father to son; we quite expect it. What will the fiend do with my soul?"

"I do not know."

"Nor do I."

During this edifying conversation two lofty gallows had been erected a little outside the intrenchments on the river bank, in the sight of the whole population and of the gauchos, who, grouped in the Población del Sur, yelled with rage. Panchito and Diego were hung as a warning example; a bando, affixed at the foot of the ladder, threatened every insurgent gaucho with the same fate.

While this was going on, night set in, illumined by the burning faubourg conquered by the Indians. The flames tinged the hapless town with fantastic gleams, and the inhabitants, plunged in a gloomy stupor, said to themselves that the flames would soon cross the road and reduce Carmen to ashes. The governor seemed made of iron; he did not take a moment's rest, he visited the forts, heightened drooping spirits, and tried to imbue all with hopes which were far from his heart. As for the Indians, they made two attempts to surprise the town, and, just before dawn, retired to their camp.

"Major," the colonel said, "it is not possible to deceive ourselves. Tomorrow, the day after, or in a week, all will be over with us."

"Hum! At the last moment we will blow up the fort."

"We are deprived of even that resource."

"Why so?"

"Old soldiers, such as we are, cannot thus dispose of the lives of others."

"You are right," the major continued, precisely; "we will blow out our brains."

"Nor can we do that either, my friend; for we must be the last on the breach."

"But," the major said, after a short silence, for the undeniable reasoning of his superior had crushed him, "how is it that we have received no news yet from Buenos Aires?"

"They have something else to do there than think about us."

"Oh! I cannot believe that."

A slave announced Don Torribio Carvajal.

Don Torribio came in, dressed in the splendid uniform of a colonel in the Argentine army, with an aide-de-camp's badge on his left arm. The two officers, on his entrance, felt an inward tremor Don Torribio bowed to them.

"Is it really you, Don Torribio?" the colonel asked.

"Well, I suppose so," he answered, with a smile.

"And your long journey?"

"I have just arrived."

"And this uniform?"

"Well, gentlemen, as I was tired of being regarded in the colony as a mysterious being, a sorcerer, a vampire, or something of the sort, I resolved to become a man, like the rest of you."

"Then you are – ?"

"An officer, like yourself, colonel, and, in addition, aide-de-camp to General Rosas."

"It is prodigious," Don Antonio remarked.

"Why so? nothing is more simple, on the contrary."

A strange suspicion had entered the major's mind at Don Torribio's unexpected arrival, a suspicion which only disappeared after he made the following remark: —

"Yes," he continued, "I am a colonel. In addition, the President of the Republic has intrusted me with a message, which I feel sure will please you."

And he took from the breast of his uniform a large despatch, sealed with the Argentine arms. The colonel, with the permission of the two officers, opened and perused the mission, and unbounded delight was depicted on his face.

"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, "two hundred and fifty men! I did not expect such a reinforcement."

"The president is very anxious about the colony," Don Torribio said, "and will spare no sacrifice to preserve it."

"¡Viva Dios! Thanks to that succour. Don Torribio, I care no more for the Indians than a wisp of straw."

"It seems that the troops will not arrive too soon."

"It was only just in time, canario," the governor replied imprudently. "Where are your men?"

"They will arrive within an hour."

"What are they?"

"Gauchos."

"Hum!" said the colonel, "I should have preferred any other troops. However, it is of no consequence. With your permission, I will go to meet them."

"I am at your orders."

"Shall I go with you?" the major asked.

"That would be better still," Torribio observed quickly.

"No, major," said Don Antonio. "Stay here, for who knows what may happen during my absence. Come, Don Torribio."

The latter smiled; and it would have been difficult to say what the smile meant. He went out, accompanied by the colonel, and they mounted their horses. As they left the fort a man passed them, walking at a quick pace.

"Pedrito!" Don Torribio muttered to himself; "Providing that he has not recognized me! All is well."

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE CAVE OF THE COUGARS

Pedrito followed his sister without saying a word, and almost as much astonished as Don Valentine and her daughter at Mercedes' devotion. She led him to her bedroom, a charming retreat, full of shade and fresh air. While the bombero eagerly surveyed all the objects, Mercedes, sighing and ready to weep, took a parting glance at her well-beloved room; but she had the courage to repress her tears.

"Sit down, brother. I have a great service to ask of you."

"Hang it! A service, little sister? Why assume so solemn an air for such a simple thing?"

"Because it is difficult."

"Nothing is impossible to please you. What is the matter?"

"Swear to me, first, to grant what I am about to ask of you."

"Go on, child, and do not trouble yourself about the rest," Pedrito said, with a hearty laugh.

"No. I must have your oath."

"I have taken it; that is understood, I have all the gravity of an Indian idol."

"You are laughing at me," she said, with tears in her eyes.

"Confound the women!" Pedrito remarked; "They can always twirl men round their fingers. Come, silly child, do not cry any more. I swear to obey your whims. Tell me what it is all about."

"I have promised Doña Concha, my dear brother, to give her within three days news about Don Sylvio."

"What next?"

"I wish to perform my promise."

"The deuce."

"And for that I have counted on you."

"On me?"

"Yes."

"How can I help you?"

"Without you the affair is impracticable."

"In that case, little sister, I am greatly afraid that – "

"Remember your oath."

"Go on. I am listening."

"I have lived a long time among the Indians, whose manners and language I am acquainted with. I intend to get into their camp unnoticed, in order to learn where Don Sylvio is."

"Good-bye, Mercedes."

"And your oath, brother?" she said, placing herself before the door.

"I shall not keep it; and if Heaven thinks that I ought, we will argue the point together."

She looked at her brother for a moment in silence. "You are quite resolved?" she continued.

"Quite."

"Then, I shall go alone."

"What," Pedrito exclaimed, as he rushed towards her, "Do you wish to be the death of me, then?"

Mercedes made no reply.

"Go away, brother. I will do without you."

"Come on! I will follow you. Oh, these women!" the bombero muttered.

"We shall succeed," she exclaimed, joyfully.

"Yes, in getting ourselves killed."

"Let us be off, brother," she said, placing under her arm a small bundle of clothing.

Mercedes, fearing the emotion of a farewell scene, avoided Doña Concha.

Patito had got two horses in readiness, which speedily carried brother and sister far from the estancia. At the battery the capataz was waiting for them.

"Señorita," he said to Mercedes, "you are a noble girl, Heaven will aid and bless you."

"Don Blas," Mercedes answered, with a smile, as she drew from her bosom a small gold cross Doña Concha had given her, and broke the velvet neck ribbon, "take this cross, and keep it in remembrance of me."

The two travellers had been galloping a long time ere the capataz left off kissing the cross, while thinking that its usual resting place was on the maiden's heart. Pedrito and his sister rode side by side without exchanging a word, for both were plunged in deep thought.

"How far have we to go?" Mercedes asked all at once.

"Two leagues."

After a while they heard the footfall of a horse behind them; they turned, and perceived Patito, who was making signals to them, and the gaucho soon joined them.

"My mistress is following me," he said.

Doña Concha, dressed in male clothing, came up at the full speed of her horse.

"Ah," she said, on joining them, "I trembled lest I should miss you."

"Are we to turn back Pedrito asked, with a fugitive gleam of hope."

"No, no; on the contrary; push on," Concha replied.

"Where are you going, señorita?"

"I am following you."

"What?" he said, fancying he misunderstood her.

"I guessed your plan, Mercedes, and mean to share its perils."

"That is fine, señorita!" Pedrito exclaimed.

"She is right," Mercedes said simply; "that will be better."

"You, Patito," Concha said, "can go back; I have no need of your services."

"Forgive me, but with your permission I will remain; I am not wanted at the estancia, and, though I do not know where you are going, two strong arms are worth keeping."

"Remain, my friend."

"But your father, Don Valentine, señorita?" Pedrito attempted to say.

"He approves of it," she answered drily.

They started again: two hours later they reached the foot of a hill, halfway up which was a natural grotto, known in the country by the name of the Cave of the Cougars.

"My brothers are there," Pedrito said.

The little party ascended the gentle slope of the hill, and entered the cave on horseback, without leaving any trace of their passage. There were several entrances to this cave; it was divided into several compartments that had no visible communication, and formed a species of labyrinth that meandered under the hill. The bomberos, who knew all its turnings, often employed it as a refuge.

Pepe and Lopez were seated before a heather fire, silently smoking their pipes, and watching a leg of guanaco that was roasting. They saluted the newcomers, and remained dumb as the Indians, whose manner they had to some extent assumed in their nomadic life on the Pampa. Pedrito conducted the two ladies to a separate compartment.

"While here," he said to them in a low whisper, "say but little, for you can never tell what neighbours you may have. If you want us, you know where we are; I now leave you."

His sister caught his arm and put her lips to his ear, and he went away without making any answer.

The two girls, when alone, threw themselves into each other's arms. When this outburst was over, they disguised themselves as Indian women. At the moment when their Spanish dresses were about to fall, they heard footsteps close to them, and turned like startled fawns.

"I was afraid," Doña Concha said, "lest it was Don Pedro; let us listen."

"Caray, Don Torribio, you are welcome," a man's voice said, hardly three yards from the girls; "I have been waiting for you for more than two hours."

"Always that man!" Concha murmured.

"My good fellow," Don Torribio replied, "it was impossible for me to come sooner."

"Well, here you are, that is the main point," the first speaker remarked.

At this moment Pedrito entered; Mercedes made him a sign to listen, and he came to her side.

"Are you satisfied with your position at Carmen?" Torribio continued.

"Not very greatly, I confess."

"I am going to liberate you, my dear Pincheira; I shall order the attack on Población del Sur tomorrow, and then you will act, I suppose."

"That is settled. By the by, I just now came across a poor devil of an Argentine officer, entrusted with a despatch for the governor of El Carmen; it announces help, I suppose."

"¡Caramba! They must make haste. What did you do with the despatch?"

"Here it is."

"Did you kill the Argentine messenger?"

"Well, I fancy so."

"That is right."

"When is the assault to take place?"

"In two days. How is my prisoner, by the way?"

"Oh, he is furious."

"He will grow calm. This is what I intend to do, soon as the town – "

But while these words were being spoken, the two men had retired, and the sound of their voices died out in the windings of the cave. When the maidens turned round again Pedrito had disappeared.

"Well," Mercedes said, "what do you think of that singular accident?"

"It is a miracle of Heaven."

"Shall we still disguise ourselves?"

"More so than ever."

"For what purpose?" Pedrito said, who had returned, "I now know where Don Sylvio is, and I undertake to restore him to you."

"But our vengeance?" Doña Concha interrupted.

"Let us save him first. Return to the estancia, señorita, and leave me to act."

"No, Don Pedro, I shall not leave you."

"Wait for me here, then, both of you."

Several hours passed, and Pedrito did not return. Alarmed by this inexplicable delay, the two girls joined the other two bomberos in the front cave. Night had set in when Pedrito returned; he bought an enormous bale on the neck of his horse, which was panting with fatigue.

"Put on these gauchos' dresses," he said to the two ladies; "we are going to get inside Carmen. The journey will be a rough one, but make haste, for every moment lost is an hour of danger for us."

They ran off to dress themselves, and were ready in a moment.

"Take your Indian robes," Pedrito said, "for they may be useful to you. Good! Now follow me, and be cautious!"

The three bomberos, the two girls, and Patito left the cave, and glided through the darkness like shadows, marching in Indian file, at one moment stooping down to the ground, crawling on their knees, and trying as far as possible to hide their passage. It was a singular and dangerous journey, in the depths of night, and across a desert whose thickets in time of war are peopled with invisible enemies. Pedrito had placed himself at the head of the party. Doña Concha, excited by the courage which love imparts, stained the prickles with her blood, but not a single complaint passed her lips. After three hours of extraordinary effort, the little party that followed Pedrito's track suddenly stopped on his stopping.

"Look!" he said to them, in a whisper, "we are in the heart of the Aucas' camp."

All around them in the moonbeams they saw the Indian sentinels leaning on their lances and watching over the safety of their brothers. A shudder ran over the maidens; fortunately, the guards, not fearing a sortie from Carmen, were sleeping at their posts, but the slightest badly calculated movement or stumble might wake them. Hence, Pedrito recommended them to redouble their prudence, if they wished to save their lives.

About two hundred yards in front of them rose the first houses of Carmen, gloomy, silent, and apparently at least deserted or plunged in silence. The six adventurers had cleared one half the distance, when suddenly, at the moment when Pedrito stretched out his arm to shelter himself behind a sandhill, several men crawling on the opposite side, found themselves face to face with him.

There was a moment of terrible anxiety.

"Who goes there?" a low and threatening voice asked.

"Pedrito the bombero."

"Who is with you?"

"My brothers."

"Pass."

Ten minutes after this encounter they reached the barriers, which were at once opened on Pedrito mentioning his name, and they were at length safe in Carmen. It was high time; in spite of their resolution and courage, the two girls, worn out with fatigue, could no longer support themselves. So soon as the danger had passed, their nervous excitement gave way, and they fell utterly exhausted. Pedrito raised his sister in his arms; Pepe took charge of Doña Concha, and they proceeded to Don Valentine's house, where fresh difficulties awaited them. Tío Peralta refused to open the gate, but on at length recognizing his mistress, he led the travellers into a room and lit the candles.

"What are we to do now?" Doña Concha asked, as she fell back into a chair.

"Nothing just at present," Pedrito answered. "Rest yourself, señorita, and regain your strength."

"Shall we remain for long in this state of inaction, which kills us?"

"Only till tomorrow. We must not run blindly into danger, but prepare everything for the success of our plans, and watch for the propitious moment. Tomorrow at the latest, those men, whose conversation we overheard, will attempt an attack on Población del Sur. As for us, we shall be more at liberty to enter the Indian camp. Keep your presence in Carmen a secret from everybody, and give no sign of life till I return. Good-bye till tomorrow morning."

"Are you not going to rest, Don Pedro?"

"I have no time."

Pedrito left the room. Doña Concha recommended the utmost silence to Tío Peralta, and dismissed her companions, who went off to sleep in hastily prepared apartments.

Mercedes would not separate from her friend, and they reposed on the same couch. In spite of their wish to remain awake, nature was the stronger, and they soon fell into a deep sleep. The sun was already high on the horizon when they opened their eyes again. They dressed themselves and breakfasted with their companions, impatiently awaiting the bombero's return.

Several hours passed, lacerating Doña Concha's heart, and making her love bleed; the recollection of her betrothed husband, covered with the shadow of death, painfully troubled her thoughts.

At length the town bells rang out a full peal to call the population under arms, and acted as a gloomy accompaniment to the dull booming of the cannon and the flashes of the musketry fire. Without doubt the Indians were attacking Población del Sur; but where was Pedrito? Doña Concha asked herself, as she walked, like a lioness in a cage, up and down the room, devoured by anxiety and despair.

"Listen!" she said to Mercedes, as she turned her head toward the door.

"It is he!" Mercedes replied.

"At last!" Conchita exclaimed.

"Here I am, señorita," Pedrito said; "are you ready?"

"Ever since the morning," she answered reproachfully.

"It would have been too soon," he said quietly; "now if you like."

"At once."

"Señorita, be dumb; whatever you may hear and see, leave me to speak and act alone. Stay! Here is a mask for each of you, with which you will conceal your faces. When I give the word come in."

All three left the house unnoticed, for the townspeople were guarding the barricades or engaged in the furious contest going on in Población del Sur.