AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR
We aroused ourselves, at this, and regarded the captain attentively.
He turned his stern gaze upon one after the other, and gave a growl of
satisfaction as he noted no craven amongst us.
“You shall draw cuts, gentlemen, to decide the order in which you must
expiate your crime. I will show no partiality. See, here are the slips,
a number written upon each. Julio shall place them in his hat and allow
you to draw.”
He handed the bits of paper to one of his men and strode to the door of
Lesba’s room.
“Open!” he commanded, giving it a rap with his knuckles.
There was no reply.
“Open!” said he, again, and placed his ear to the panel.
Then, with a sudden gesture, he swung the door inward.
A moment the officer stood motionless, gazing into the chamber. Then he
turned to us a face convulsed with anger.
“Who permitted the woman to escape?” he demanded.
The guards, startled and amazed, peered over his shoulders into the
vacant room; but none dared to answer.
“What now, Captain, has your bird flown?” came Valcour’s soft voice, and
the spy entered the room and threw himself carelessly into a chair.
De Souza looked upon his colleague with evident suspicion, and twisted
the ends of his moustache in sullen fury. Perhaps he dared not accuse
Valcour openly, as the latter was the Emperor’s authorized
representative. And it may be the captain was not sincerely sorry that
Lesba had escaped, and so saved him from the necessity of executing her,
for, after a period of indecision, the wrath of the officer seemed to
cool, and he slowly regained his composure. Valcour, who was watching
him, appeared to notice this, and said:
“You forgot the window, my Captain. It was not difficult for the
senhorita to steal across the roadway unobserved and take refuge in the
forest. For my part, I am glad she is gone. Our royal master has little
credit in condemning a woman to such a death.”
“Have a care, senhor! Your words are treasonable.”
“The Emperor will be the first to applaud them, when he has time to
think. Indeed, de Souza, were I in your place, I should ignore the order
to execute these people. His Majesty acted under a severe nervous
strain, and he will not thank you, believe me, for carrying out his
instructions so literally.”
“A soldier’s duty is to obey,” returned the officer, stiffly. Then,
turning to the tall Uruguayan who held the hat, he added:
“Let the prisoners draw, Julio!”
Another soldier now unfastened our bonds, and Paola, who was the first
to be approached by Julio, took a slip of paper from the hat and thrust
it into his pocket without examination.
Sanchez Bastro drew next, and smiled as he read his number. Then came my
turn, and I own that I could not repress a slight trembling of my
fingers as I drew forth the fatal slip. It was number four.
“Good!” murmured de Pintra, reading the slip over my shoulder. “I shall
not be alive to witness your death, Robert.” And then he took the last
paper from the hat and added: “I am number two.”
“I am first,” said Bastro, with cheerfulness. “It is an honor, Dom
Miguel,” and he bowed respectfully to the chief.
Paola wore again the old, inane smile that always lent his face an
indescribable leer of idiocy. I knew, by this time, that the expression
was indeed a mask to cover his real feelings, and idly wondered if he
would choose to die with that detestable simper upon his lips.
“Come, gentlemen; we are ready.”
It was the captain who spoke, and we rose obediently and filed through
the doorway, closely guarded by the Uruguayans.
In the vacant space that served as a yard for Bastro’s house stood a
solitary date-palm with a straight, slender trunk. Before this we
halted, and Bastro was led to the tree and a rope passed around his body
securing him to the trunk. They offered to blindfold him, but he waved
the men aside.
“It will please me best to look into the muzzles of your guns,” said the
patriot, in a quiet voice. “I am not afraid, Senhor Captain.”
De Souza glanced at the sun. It was slowly sinking, a ball of vivid red,
into the bosom of the far-away plateau.
At a gesture from the officer six of the guardsmen stepped forward and
leveled their carbines upon Bastro, who stood upright against the tree,
with a proud smile upon his manly face.
I turned away my head, feeling sick and dizzy; and the rattle of
carbines set me trembling with nervous horror. Nor did I look toward the
tree again, although, after an interval of silence, I heard the tramp of
soldiers bearing Bastro’s body to the deserted house.
“Number two!” cried de Souza, harshly.
It was no time to turn craven. My own death was but a question of
moments, and I realized that I had little time to bid farewell to my
kind friend and strive to cheer him upon his way. Going to his side I
seized Dom Miguel’s hand and pressed it to my lips; but he was not
content with that, and caught me in a warm and affectionate embrace.
Then he was led to the tree. I turned my back, covering my face with my
hands.
“For the Cause!” I heard his gentle voice say. The carbines rang out
again, and a convulsive sob burst from my throat in spite of my strong
efforts to control my emotion.
Again I listened to the solemn tread of the soldiers, while from far
away the sound of a shout was borne to us upon the still evening air.
Somehow, that distant shout thrilled me with a new-born hope, and I
gazed eagerly along the line of roadway that skirted the forest.
De Souza was gazing there, too, with a disturbed look upon his face; but
the light was growing dim, and we could see nothing.
“Number three!”
It was Paola’s turn, and he walked unassisted to the tree and set his
back to it, while the soldiers passed the rope under his arms and then
retired. But they left Valcour confronting the prisoner, and I saw the
simper fade from Paola’s lips and an eager gleam light his pale
features.
For a few moments they stood thus, separated from all the rest, and
exchanging earnest whispers, while the captain stamped his foot with
savage impatience.
“Come, come, Valcour!” he called, at last. “You are interfering with my
duty. Leave the prisoner, I command you!”
The spy turned around, and his face was positively startling in its
expression of intense agony.
“If you are in a hurry, my dear Captain, fire upon us both!” said he,
bitterly.
With a muttered oath de Souza strode forward, and seizing Valcour by the
arm, dragged him back of the firing-line.
But at that instant a startling sound reached our ears—the sound of a
cheer—and with it came the rapid patter of horses’ feet.
The soldiers, who had already leveled their guns at Paola, swung
suddenly around upon their heels; de Souza uttered an exclamation of
dismay, and the rest of us stood as motionless as if turned to stone.
For sweeping around the curve of the forest came a troop of horsemen,
led by a girl whose fluttering white skirts trailed behind her like a
banner borne on the breeze. God! how they rode—the horses plunging madly
forward at every bound, their red eyes and distended nostrils bearing
evidence of the wild run that had well-nigh exhausted their strength.
And the riders, as they sighted us, screamed curses and encouragement in
the same breath, bearing down upon our silent group with the speed of a
whirlwind.
There was little time for the Uruguayans to recover from their surprise,
for at close range the horsemen let fly a volley from rifle and revolver
that did deadly havoc. A few saddles were emptied in return, but almost
instantly the soldiers and patriots were engaged in a desperate
hand-to-hand conflict, with no quarter given or expected.
De Souza fell wounded at the first volley, and I saw Valcour, with a
glad cry, start forward and run toward Paola, who was still bound to his
tree. But the captain, half raising himself from the ground, aimed his
revolver at the prisoner, as if determined upon his death in spite of
the promised rescue.
“Look out!” I shouted, observing the action.
Paola was, of course, helpless to evade the bullet; but Valcour, who had
nearly reached him, turned suddenly at my cry and threw himself in front
of Paola just as the shot rang out.
An instant the spy stood motionless. Then, tossing his arms above his
head, he fell backward and lay still.