ere?" asked a voice from within.

"Salvador."

On this the gate of the _patio_, wide enough to admit a man on horseback,
was thrown open, and the next moment I was in the arms of Senor Carera.

"Out of the lion's mouth!" he exclaimed, as he kissed me on both cheeks.
"I was dying of anxiety. But, thank Heaven and the Holy Virgin, you are
safe."

"I have also to thank you and Senor Carmen; and I do thank you with all my
heart."

"Say no more. We could not have done less. You were our guest. You
rendered us a great service. Had we let you perish without an effort to
save you, we should have been eternally disgraced. But come in and refresh
yourselves. Your stay here must be brief, and we can talk while we eat."

As we sat at table, Carmen told the story of my rescue.

"It was well done," said our host, thoughtfully, "very well done. Yet I
regret you had to kill the sentry. But for that you might have had a
little sleep, and started after midnight. As it is, you must set off
forthwith and get well on the road before the news of the escape gets
noised abroad. And everything is ready. All your things are here, Senor
Fortescue. You can select what you want for the journey and leave the rest
in my charge."

"All my things here! How did you manage that, Senor Carera?"

"By sending a man, whom I could trust, in the character of a messenger
from the prison with a note to the _posadero_, as from you, asking him to
deliver your baggage and receipt your bill."

"That was very good of you, Senor Carera. A thousand thanks. How much--"

"How much! That is my affair. You are my guest, remember. Your baggage is
in the next room, and while you make your preparations, I will see to the
saddling of the horses."

A very few minutes sufficed to put on my riding boots, get my pistols, and
make up my scanty kit. When I went outside, the horses were waiting in the
_patio_, each of them held by a black groom. Everything was in order. A
_cobija_ was strapped behind either saddle, both of which were furnished
with holsters and bags.

"I have had some _tasajo_ (dried beef) put in the saddle-bags, as much as
will keep you going three or four days," said Senor Carera. "You won't
find many hotels on the road. And you will want a sword, Mr. Fortescue. Do
me the favor to accept this as a souvenir of our friendship. It is a fine
Toledo blade, with a history. An ancestor of mine wore it at the battle of
Lepanto. It may bend but will never bre