arlessly rattled the beans about, cried aloud--

"Wal, boys, I guess it's the tallest gamblin' I've ever took a hand at.
But this child ain't afeerd. I was born to good luck, an' am not likely
to go under--jest yet."

The event justified his confidence, as he drew _blank_--not _black_, the
fatal colour.

It was now Kearney's turn to undergo the dread ordeal; and, without
flinching, he was about to insert his hand into the helmet, when the
Texan, seizing hold of it, stayed him.

"No, Cap!" he exclaimed; "I'm wownded, putty bad, as ye see,"--(he had
received a lance thrust in their struggle with the Guards)--"an' mayent
git over it. Thurfor, your life's worth more'n mine. Besides, my
luck's good jest now. So let me take your chance. That's allowed, as
these skunks hev sayed themselves."

So it was--a declaration having been made by the officer who presided
over the drawing--from humane motives as pretended--that any one who
could find a substitute might himself stand clear. A grim mockery it
seemed; and yet it was not so; since, besides Cris Rock, more than one
courageous fellow proposed the same to comrade and friend--in the case
of two brothers the elder one insisting upon it.

Though fully, fervently appreciating the generous offer, Florence
Kearney was not the man to avail himself of it.

"Thanks, brave comrade!" he said, with warmth, detaching his hand from
the Texan's grasp, and thrusting it into the helmet. "What's left of
your life yet is worth more than all mine; and my luck may be good as
yours--we'll see."

It proved so, a murmur of satisfaction running along the line as they
saw his hand drawn out with a white bear between the fingers.

"Thanks to the Almighty!" joyously shouted the Texan, as he made out the
colour. "Both o' us clar o' that scrape, by Job! An' as there ain't no
need for me dyin' yet, I mean to live it out, an' git well agin."

And get well he did, despite the long after march, with all its
exposures and fatigues; his health and strength being completely
restored as he stepped over the threshold, entering within his
prison-cell in the city of Mexico.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE ACORDADA.

One of the most noted "lions" in the City of Mexico is the prison called
La Acordada. Few strangers visit the Mexican capital without also
paying a visit to this celebrated penal establishment, and few who enter
its gloomy portals issue forth from them without having seen something
to sad