They had sufficient respect for the law to treat with him for a quiet
surrender. More probably they feared his resistance--as he stood sword
in hand in the doorway--looking like anything but a man who was going to
give himself up!
Had he yielded, they would scarce have kept faith with him. I had no
doubt of their intention to slay him upon the spot, instead of taking
him to their quarters.
It was a crisis that called for my interference; and I interfered.
It only needed the throwing open my cloak, and pointing out the "spread
eagle" on my button.
The slightest disobedience to me would have cost them a score of lashes
each--"on the bare back, well laid on." Such was the phrasing of our
military courts.
Nothing of the kind was attempted. I had full control of my rescuers--
who were altogether unconscious of the service they had done me--
ignorant also of the fact that it was I, not the Mexican, who had sent
their _camarado_ to his long account!
For myself I had no fear of them. I only feared for my friend: who, if
left to their tender mercies, would never have paid another visit to the
Street of the Bishop.
I did not leave him to be judged by the Red Tribunal. I made a
compromise with their self-esteem--by taking a lead in his arrest!
To this the accused man, with some show of reluctance, submitted; and,
in ten minutes after, he was transported to the _Cuartel_, occupied by
the Rifle Rangers--though not to suffer the degradation of being shut up
in its guard-house.