voice was cracked with emotion. He stepped aside, and
quick as lightning brought the spark to the touch-hole.

"'Excellent!' he cried, tearfully; but Gaspar Ruiz lay for a long time
silent, flattened on the ground.

"'I am tired,' he murmured at last. 'Will another shot do it?'

"'Without doubt,' said Jorge, bending down to his ear.

"'Then--load,' I heard him utter distinctly. 'Trumpeter!'

"'I am here, senor, ready for your word.'

"'Blow a blast at this word that shall be heard from one end of Chile to
the other,' he said, in an extraordinarily strong voice. 'And you others
stand ready to cut this accursed riata, for then will be the time for me
to lead you in your rush. Now raise me up, and you, Jorge--be quick with
your aim.'

"The rattle of musketry from the fort nearly drowned his voice. The
palisade was wreathed in smoke and flame.

"'Exert your force forward against the recoil, mi amo,' said the old
gunner, shakily. 'Dig your fingers into the ground. So. Now!'

"A cry of exultation escaped him after the shot. The trumpeter raised
his trumpet nearly to his lips and waited. But no word came from the
prostrate man. I fell on one knee, and heard all he had to say then.

"'Something broken,' he whispered, lifting his head a little, and
turning his eyes towards me in his hopelessly crushed attitude.

"'The gate hangs only by the splinters,' yelled Jorge.

"Gaspar Ruiz tried to speak, but his voice died out in his throat, and I
helped to roll the gun off his broken back. He was insensible.

"I kept my lips shut, of course. The signal for the Indians to attack
was never given. Instead, the bugle-calls of the relieving force for
which my ears had thirsted so long, burst out, terrifying like the call
of the Last Day to our surprised enemies.

"A tornado, senores, a real hurricane of stampeded men, wild horses,
mounted Indians, swept over me as I cowered on the ground by the side
of Gaspar Ruiz, still stretched out on his face in the shape of a
cross. Peneleo, galloping for life, jabbed at me with his long chuso in
passing--for the sake of old acquaintance, I suppose. How I escaped the
flying lead is more difficult to explain. Venturing to rise on my knees
too soon some soldiers of the 17th Taltal regiment, in their hurry to
get at something alive, nearly bayoneted me on the spot. They looked
very disappointed, too, when, some officers galloping up drove them away
with the flat of their swords.

"It was