rowel
in his hand, his eyes staring with fright at the dead body of a man
which was lying at his feet, half buried under the timbers.

"Are you hurt?--Are you still alive? For God's sake speak!" said some
of the employees, full of terror.

"Miracle! a miracle!" cried some.

"Come and remove the body of this unfortunate man," said Ibarra,
as if awakening from a dream.

On hearing his voice, Maria Clara felt her strength giving way and
she fell, half fainting, into the arms of her friends.

Great confusion reigned. Everybody was talking, gesticulating,
and running from one side to the other, up and down the stairs,
all stupefied and full of consternation.

"Who is the dead man? Is he still alive?" asked the alferez.

The body was identified as the yellow workman who had been standing
beside the windlass.

"Let proceedings be brought against the superintendent of the work,"
was the first thing that the Alcalde said.

They examined the body, felt of the heart, but it was no longer
beating. The blow had fallen on the head and blood was oozing from
the nose, ears and mouth. Some strange marks were seen on the man's
neck. There were four deep dents on one side and a single but deeper
one on the other. It looked as though an iron hand had grasped it
like a pair of pinchers.

The priests warmly congratulated the young man and shook his hand.

"When I think that only a few moments ago I was standing there,"
said one of the employees. "Say! If I had been the last! Jesus!"

"It makes my hair stand on end," said another, who was bald.

Ibarra had departed, to ascertain the condition of Maria Clara.

"Let this not prevent the festival from continuing," said the
Alcalde. "God be praised! The dead man is neither a priest nor a
Spaniard! Your escape must be celebrated! Just think--if the stone
had fallen on you!"

"There is such a thing as a presentiment!" said the Notary. "I said
so. Senor Ibarra was reluctant to descend. I saw it!"

"Let the festival go on! Give us some music! Weeping will not bring
the dead man to life. Captain, serve warrants right here! Let the
clerk of the tribunal come. Arrest the superintendent of the work!"

"Put him in the stocks!"

"Put him in the stocks! Eh? Some music, music! Put the maestrillo in
the stocks."

"Senor Alcalde," replied Ibarra gravely, "if weeping cannot bring
the dead man back to life, neither can anything be gained by putting
a man in prison when we do not know tha