Don Abrahan was there, in plain sight, as if they had brought him out to pay the threatened penalty. The fact that Felipe stood close by the patron, a gun in his hands, watchfulness in his attitude, and that old Pablo was posted behind him, likewise with a gun, seemed evidence of their grave and desperate intention. To add to Roberto's unrest and multiply his uncertainty, there stood by a third desperado in long black cloak, who, from the fairness of his half-face as he presented his side to Roberto, appeared to be a Yankee.
A flight of conjectures, which were more than slightly colored with fear, rose in Roberto's mind. Henderson could see the shadow of them cross his face. Who could this person be? Was it possible that the Americans had come, after all, and were lying that moment behind the mounds of earth?
"I am waiting to hear you speak, Roberto," Henderson prompted him, seeing that his growing perplexities had swallowed his words.
"I am willing to make a compromise with you," Roberto said, pulling his eyes away from the earthworks, the cannon, the stranger in the dark cloak, with a wrench, it seemed. "I am willing to allow compassion and humanity to obscure my duty. There is nothing bitter in my heart against you, Gabriel, when all is considered. You have been the companion of some happy hours. In exchange for my father's safety I will give you freedom. I will withdraw my soldiers until tomorrow morn-
