. He was going to his death. Her lover
was going to his death. Why had she let him go? Why had she not done
something--thought of some way to save him?

The ranger's guards led him to the military headquarters in the next
street from the prison. He observed that nearly a whole company of
Rurales formed the escort, and this led him to conclude that the
government party was very uneasy as to the situation and had taken
precautions against a possible attempt at rescue. But no such attempt
was made. The sunny streets were pretty well deserted, except for a few
lounging peons hardly interested enough to be curious. The air of peace,
of order, sat so incongruously over the plaza that Bucky's heart fell.
Surely this was the last place on earth for a revolution to make any
headway of consequence. His friends were hidden away in holes and
cellars, while Megales dominated the situation with his troops. To
expect a reversal of the situation was surely madness.

Yet even while the thought was in his mind he caught a glimpse in a
doorway of a man he recognized. It was Rodrigo, one of his allies of the
previous night's escapade, and it seemed to him that the man was trying
to tell him something with his eyes. If so, the meaning of his message
failed to carry home, for after the ranger had passed he dared not look
back again.

So far as the trial itself went, O'Connor hoped for nothing and was the
less disappointed. One glance at his judges was enough to convince him
of the futility of expectation. He was tried by a court-martial presided
over by General Carlo. Beside him sat a Colonel Onate and Lieutenant
Chaves. In none of the three did he find any room for hope. Carlo was
a hater of Americans and a butcher by temperament and choice, Chaves
a personal enemy of the prisoner, and Onate looked as grim an old
scoundrel as Jeffreys the hanging judge of James Stuart. Governor
Megales, though not technically a member of the court, was present, and
took an active part in the prosecution. He was a stout, swarthy little
man, with black, beady eyes that snapped restlessly to and fro, and from
his manner to the officers in charge of the trial it was plain that he
was a despot even in his own official family.

The court did not trouble itself with forms of law. Chaves was both
principal witness and judge, notwithstanding the protest of the
prisoner. Yet what the lieutenant had to offer in the way of testimony
was so tinctured with bitterness