it as it stretched in the wind; the women and children stood in the road before their houses to see. But in the expectation of Roberto's coming, and the doubt and uncertainty that waited on that event, nobody but those under arms was now permitted to approach the courtyard.
According to Felipe's calculations, it was time for Roberto to answer the summons, either by courier or alone, as directed, or at the head of his soldiers, as expected. Felipe and his assistant gunner stood ready to train the cannon on the quarter from which a charge might come. It was Felipe's pride that he had disposed his artillery in such position that this could happen in only two points.
It was past midday; the men who had volunteered in the precarious cause of liberty as championed by Henderson and Felipe had been served bountiful rations from Don Abrahan's storehouse. There was no dust of Roberto's coming in the road to the pueblo—only the sound of a tinkling bell out of sight beyond the olive lane. Henderson paused in his impatient, disturbed striding up and down beside the storehouse wall.
There was a familiar sound in that bell, but he was unable to determine where, under what conditions, he had heard it before. And the picture of Pablo Gonzales and his burro rose in his mind, provoking a smile. In a little while Pablo himself, seated in dignity and ease on Benito's back, came in sight between the olive trees.
Pablo was not unattended. A man trudged
