CHAPTER XXIII AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR

We aroused ourselves, at this, and regarded the captain attentively.

He turned his stern gaze upon one after the other, and gave a growl of satisfaction as he noted no craven amongst us.

“You shall draw cuts, gentlemen, to decide the order in which you must expiate your crime. I will show no partiality. See, here are the slips, a number written upon each. Julio shall place them in his hat and allow you to draw.”

He handed the bits of paper to one of his men and strode to the door of Lesba’s room.

“Open!” he commanded, giving it a rap with his knuckles.

There was no reply.

“Open!” said he, again, and placed his ear to the panel.

Then, with a sudden gesture, he swung the door inward.

263A moment the officer stood motionless, gazing into the chamber. Then he turned to us a face convulsed with anger.

“Who permitted the woman to escape?” he demanded.

The guards, startled and amazed, peered over his shoulders into the vacant room; but none dared to answer.

“What now, Captain, has your bird flown?” came Valcour’s soft voice, and the spy entered the room and threw himself carelessly into a chair.

De Souza looked upon his colleague with evident suspicion, and twisted the ends of his moustache in sullen fury. Perhaps he dared not accuse Valcour openly, as the latter was the Emperor’s authorized representative. And it may be the captain was not sincerely sorry that Lesba had escaped, and so saved him from the necessity of executing her, for, after a period of indecision, the wrath of the officer seemed to cool, and he slowly regained his composure. Valcour, who was watching him, appeared to notice this, and said:

“You forgot the window, my Captain. 264It was not difficult for the senhorita to steal across the roadway unobserved and take refuge in the forest. For my part, I am glad she is gone. Our royal master has little credit in condemning a woman to such a death.”

“Have a care, senhor! Your words are treasonable.”

“The Emperor will be the first to applaud them, when he has time to think. Indeed, de Souza, were I in your place, I should ignore the order to execute these people. His Majesty acted under a severe nervous strain, and he will not thank you, believe me, for carrying out his instructions so literally.”

“A soldier’s duty is to obey,” returned the officer, stiffly. Then, turning to the tall Uruguayan who held the hat, he added:

“Let the prisoners draw, Julio!”

Another soldier now unfastened our bonds, and Paola, who was the first to be approached by Julio, took a slip of paper from the hat and thrust it into his pocket without examination.

Sanchez Bastro drew next, and smiled as he read his number. Then came my 265turn, and I own that I could not repress a slight trembling of my fingers as I drew forth the fatal slip. It was number four.

“Good!” murmured de Pintra, reading the slip over my shoulder. “I shall not be alive to witness your death, Robert.” And then he took the last paper from the hat and added: “I am number two.”

“I am first,” said Bastro, with cheerfulness. “It is an honor, Dom Miguel,” and he bowed respectfully to the chief.

Paola wore again the old, inane smile that always lent his face an indescribable leer of idiocy. I knew, by this time, that the expression was indeed a mask to cover his real feelings, and idly wondered if he would choose to die with that detestable simper upon his lips.

“Come, gentlemen; we are ready.”

It was the captain who spoke, and we rose obediently and filed through the doorway, closely guarded by the Uruguayans.

In the vacant space that served as a yard for Bastro’s house stood a solitary date-palm with a straight, slender trunk. Before this we halted, and Bastro was led to the tree 266and a rope passed around his body securing him to the trunk. They offered to blindfold him, but he waved the men aside.

“It will please me best to look into the muzzles of your guns,” said the patriot, in a quiet voice. “I am not afraid, Senhor Captain.”

De Souza glanced at the sun. It was slowly sinking, a ball of vivid red, into the bosom of the far-away plateau.

At a gesture from the officer six of the guardsmen stepped forward and leveled their carbines upon Bastro, who stood upright against the tree, with a proud smile upon his manly face.

I turned away my head, feeling sick and dizzy; and the rattle of carbines set me trembling with nervous horror. Nor did I look toward the tree again, although, after an interval of silence, I heard the tramp of soldiers bearing Bastro’s body to the deserted house.

“Number two!” cried de Souza, harshly.

It was no time to turn craven. My own death was but a question of moments, and I realized that I had little time to bid farewell 267to my kind friend and strive to cheer him upon his way. Going to his side I seized Dom Miguel’s hand and pressed it to my lips; but he was not content with that, and caught me in a warm and affectionate embrace.

Then he was led to the tree. I turned my back, covering my face with my hands.

“For the Cause!” I heard his gentle voice say. The carbines rang out again, and a convulsive sob burst from my throat in spite of my strong efforts to control my emotion.

Again I listened to the solemn tread of the soldiers, while from far away the sound of a shout was borne to us upon the still evening air.

Somehow, that distant shout thrilled me with a new-born hope, and I gazed eagerly along the line of roadway that skirted the forest.

De Souza was gazing there, too, with a disturbed look upon his face; but the light was growing dim, and we could see nothing.

“Number three!”

It was Paola’s turn, and he walked unassisted 268to the tree and set his back to it, while the soldiers passed the rope under his arms and then retired. But they left Valcour confronting the prisoner, and I saw the simper fade from Paola’s lips and an eager gleam light his pale features.

For a few moments they stood thus, separated from all the rest, and exchanging earnest whispers, while the captain stamped his foot with savage impatience.

“Come, come, Valcour!” he called, at last. “You are interfering with my duty. Leave the prisoner, I command you!”

The spy turned around, and his face was positively startling in its expression of intense agony.

“If you are in a hurry, my dear Captain, fire upon us both!” said he, bitterly.

With a muttered oath de Souza strode forward, and seizing Valcour by the arm, dragged him back of the firing-line.

But at that instant a startling sound reached our ears—the sound of a cheer—and with it came the rapid patter of horses’ feet.

The soldiers, who had already leveled 269their guns at Paola, swung suddenly around upon their heels; de Souza uttered an exclamation of dismay, and the rest of us stood as motionless as if turned to stone.

For sweeping around the curve of the forest came a troop of horsemen, led by a girl whose fluttering white skirts trailed behind her like a banner borne on the breeze. God! how they rode—the horses plunging madly forward at every bound, their red eyes and distended nostrils bearing evidence of the wild run that had well-nigh exhausted their strength.

And the riders, as they sighted us, screamed curses and encouragement in the same breath, bearing down upon our silent group with the speed of a whirlwind.

There was little time for the Uruguayans to recover from their surprise, for at close range the horsemen let fly a volley from rifle and revolver that did deadly havoc. A few saddles were emptied in return, but almost instantly the soldiers and patriots were engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand conflict, with no quarter given or expected.

De Souza fell wounded at the first volley, 270and I saw Valcour, with a glad cry, start forward and run toward Paola, who was still bound to his tree. But the captain, half raising himself from the ground, aimed his revolver at the prisoner, as if determined upon his death in spite of the promised rescue.

“Look out!” I shouted, observing the action.

Paola was, of course, helpless to evade the bullet; but Valcour, who had nearly reached him, turned suddenly at my cry and threw himself in front of Paola just as the shot rang out.

An instant the spy stood motionless. Then, tossing his arms above his head, he fell backward and lay still.