d of Texas
to the other."

"They cry out in old England and in New England, in New York, in New
Orleans, and all down the Mississippi. And men are crying back to
them: 'Stand to your rifles and we will come and help you!' The idea of
disarming ten thousand Americans!" Jack laughed with scornful amusement
at the notion. "What a game it will be! Mother, you can't tell how a
man gets to love his rifle. He that takes our purse takes trash; but our
rifles! By George Washington, that's a different story!"

Juan, my darling, you are my last hope. Your brother was born with an
American heart. He has even become a heretic. Fray Ignatius says he went
into the Colorado and was what they call immersed; he that was baptized
with holy water by the thrice holy bishop of Durango. My beloved one, go
and see Fray Ignatius; late as it is, he will rise and counsel you.

"My heart, my conscience, my country, my father, my brother, Santa
Anna's despotism, have already counselled me."

"Speak no more. I see that you also are a rebel and a heretic. Mother of
sorrows, give me thy compassion!" Then, turning to Juan, she cried out:
"May God pardon me for having brought into this world such ingrates! Go
from me! You have broken my heart!"

He fell at her feet, and, in spite of her reluctance, took her hands--

"Sweetest mother, wait but a little while. You will see that we are
right. Do not be cross with Juan. I am going away. Kiss me, mother. Kiss
me, and give me your blessing."

"No, I will not bless you. I will not kiss you. You want what is
impossible, what is wicked."

"I want freedom."

"And to get freedom you tread upon your mother's heart. Let loose my
hands. I am weary to death of this everlasting talk of freedom. I think
indeed that the Americans know but two words: freedom and dollars. Ring
for Rachela. She, at least, is faithful to me."

"Not till you kiss me, mother. Do not send me away unblessed and
unloved. That is to doom me to misfortune. Mi madre, I beg this favor
from you." He had risen, but he still held her hands, and he was weeping
as innocent young men are not ashamed to weep.

If she had looked at him! Oh, if she had but once looked at his face,
she could not have resisted its beauty, its sorrow, its imploration! But
she would not look. She drew her hands angrily away from him. She turned
her back upon her suppliant son and imperiously summoned Rachela.

"Good-by, mi madre."

"Good-by, mi madre!"

She woul