y, the dark figures of the
rebels, whirled before Madeline's eyes. She took a few steps, swaying
between her escorts; then the confusion of her sight and mind passed
away. It was as if she quickened with a thousand vivifying currents,
as if she could see and hear and feel everything in the world, as if
nothing could be overlooked, forgotten, neglected.

She turned back, remembering Link. He was lurching from the car, helmet
and goggles thrust back, the gray shade gone from his face, the cool,
bright gleam of his eyes disappearing for something warmer.

Senor Montes led Madeline and her cowboys through a hall to a patio,
and on through a large room with flooring of rough, bare boards that
rattled, into a smaller room full of armed quiet rebels facing an open
window.

Madeline scanned the faces of these men, expecting to see Don Carlos.
But he was not present. A soldier addressed her in Spanish too swiftly
uttered, too voluble for her to translate. But, like Senor Montes, he
was gracious and, despite his ragged garb and uncouth appearance, he
bore the unmistakable stamp of authority.

Montes directed Madeline's attention to a man by the window. A loose
scarf of vivid red hung from his hand.

"Senora, they were waiting for the sun to set when we arrived," said
Montes. "The signal was about to be given for Senor Stewart's walk to
death."

"Stewart's walk!" echoed Madeline.

"Ah, Senora, let me tell you his sentence--the sentence I have had the
honor and happiness to revoke for you."

Stewart had been court-martialed and sentenced according to a Mexican
custom observed in cases of brave soldiers to whom honorable and fitting
executions were due. His hour had been set for Thursday when the sun had
sunk. Upon signal he was to be liberated and was free to walk out into
the road, to take any direction he pleased. He knew his sentence; knew
that death awaited him, that every possible avenue of escape was blocked
by men with rifles ready. But he had not the slightest idea at what
moment or from what direction the bullets were to come.

"Senora, we have sent messengers to every squad of waiting soldiers--an
order that El Capitan is not to be shot. He is ignorant of his release.
I shall give the signal for his freedom."

Montes was ceremonious, gallant, emotional. Madeline saw his pride, and
divined that the situation was one which brought out the vanity, the
ostentation, as well as the cruelty of his race. He would keep