“It may be death,” he spoke it soft,

“When they don’t find us here,—

Our country needs her able men;

Speak, José, have you fear?”

“No; father, no—quick, brothers, go!

It’s all I have to give,—

It matters not if I am shot,—

Our country—it must live!”

One long embrace—and they are off!

Bang! bang! ’twas José’s gun,—