n sliding,
jumping, running, hurrying, coming every instant nearer and nearer. What
had Rita done, indeed? Manuela crouched on the mouldering floor at her
mistress's feet, too terrified even to cry out now; Rita Montfort drew
her dagger, and waited.

Next instant the narrow doorway was thronged with men; swarthy
black-browed men, ragged, hatless, shoeless, but all armed, all with
rifle cocked, all pressing forward with eager, wondering looks.

"Who rang the bell? what has happened?"

A babel of voices arose; Rita could not have made herself heard if she
would; and, indeed, for the moment no words came to her lips. But there
was one to speak for her. Chiquito, the old gray parrot, raised his head
from her shoulder, where he had been quietly dozing, and flapped his
wings, and cried aloud:

"_Viva Cuba Libre! viva Garcia! viva Gomez! a muerto Espana!_" There was
a moment's silence; then the voices broke out again in wild cries and
cheers.

"Ah, the Cuban bird! the parrot of freedom! Welcome, senorita! You bring
us good luck! Welcome to the Cuban ladies and their glorious bird! _Viva
Cuba Libre! viva Garcia! viva el papageno!_ long life to the illustrious
lady!"

Rita, herself again, stepped from the chapel, erect and joyous, holding
the parrot aloft.

"I thank you, brothers!" she said. "I come to seek freedom among you; I
am a daughter of Cuba. Does any among you know Don Carlos Montfort?"

The babel rose again. Know Don Carlos? but surely! was he not their
captain? Even now he was at the General's quarters, consulting him about
the movements of the next day. What joy! what honour for the poor sons
of Cuba to form the escort of the peerless sister of Don Carlos to
headquarters! But the distance was nothing. They would carry the
senorita and her attendant; they would make a throne, and transport them
as lightly as if swans drew them. Ah, the fortunate day! the lucky omen
of the blessed parrot!

They babbled like children, crowding round Chiquito, extolling his
beauty, his wisdom, the miracle of his timely utterance. Chiquito seemed
to think, for his part, that he had done enough. He paid no attention to
the blandishments of his ragged admirers, but turned himself upside
down, always a sign of contempt with him, said "Caramba!" and would say
nothing more.

A little procession was formed, the least ragged of the patriots leading
the way, Rita and Manuela following. The others crowded together behind,
exclaiming,