But which of the fifty dwellings was his?
Even could I have told the right one, would I have time to reach it, or
would he be at home?
There was a chance that he might be--that he might hear my cries, and
come out. It was so slight as to seem hopeless; and yet I clutched at
it, as a drowning man at a straw!
Shouting, I retreated along the street--in what I believed to be the
direction of his dwelling.
I am not ashamed to acknowledge, that I called loudly for help--coupling
my calls with the name of Francisco Moreno. A man, with death staring
him in the teeth, may be excused for dropping a trifle of his dignity.
I shouted like a respectable shopkeeper attacked by a gang of garotters.
The Street of the Sparrows was fatal to me only in promise; and for the
second time fortune favoured my escape from it.
Help came; though not from the quarter so loudly solicited. Francisco's
door remained shut; at least it was not opened by him. It was thrown
open by a score of Red Hats, who at that moment appeared entering the
street.
At any other time the sight of these sanguinary allies would have caused
me a thrill of antagonism. Now they seemed saints--as they proved
saviours!
They had shown themselves in the nick of time. Carrasco and his
compeers were close behind me--so close that the points of their
_machetes_ were within six inches of my spine.
On espying the Red Hats they retreated in the opposite direction--going
off even faster than they had been following me!
Seeing myself disembarrassed of the danger, I advanced to meet my
preservers. I had no idea of what they could be doing there; until I
saw them stop in front of a house--where they demanded admittance.
The demand was made in a rude manner, and in terms of an unmistakeable
determination to enter.
As no one opened the door, they commenced hammering upon it with the
butts of their _escopetas_; for several of them were armed with this
weapon.
The door finally gave way--having yielded at the hinges--and, swinging
round, stood partially ajar.
Not till then had I the slightest suspicion of what the Red Hats were
after. Some "bit of burglary," I supposed, done in open day; for there
was no reason to think the contrary. I could see they were a straggling
lot--out on their own account, and without authority.
I was not enlightened about their object, till I saw the face of
Francisco Moreno behind the half-opened door, scowlingly confronting
them!
It was his house; though I had not before recognised it.
The conclusion came quick as electricity. They were there to arrest
him, for killing one of their comrades on the night before, or being an
accomplice in the act!