locked gates of heavy timbers the two friends looked into the plaza.
The plaza was an empty square of hard-beaten earth, the parade ground for the garrison, the gathering place of the people at evenings and on days of fiesta. There were no trees in it, no growing thing, no seats, fountains nor ornamentations of any description. It was as barren as a desert, excepting only the posts set in the ground before certain shops and cantinas for hitching the horses of customers.
Starlight alone would have revealed this blank spot in all its bleakness; the added illumination of the bright strip of waning moon made it distinct in detail to the men who surveyed it through the padres' garden gate.
Henderson was as empty of any plan as the plaza itself, as he stood straining against the timbers of the gate. The necessity of quick and masterly decision pressed on him with hot frenzy; his thoughts were in a desperate surge. Every moment of the speeding time urged him to action, only to mock the desperate impotency of his hand.
What could two men do against twenty? as Felipe had asked. There the dark garrison lay, a long, low, dun building of adobe bricks, roofed over with red tiles. It had its secret places, its dungeons, Felipe had said. He was as helpless against its mysteries and thick, guarded walls as an ant.
"Every street emptying into the plaza has a
