The clamor without increased. Heavy poles and billets of wood had been fetched, and blow after blow now fell upon every shutter and door. The sharp spitting of the rifles tore the air, and bullets crashed through the walls and windows. In the heavy shadows back of the altar Rosendo and Don Jorge crouched over the sobbing women. Lázaro lay very still. Josè knew as he stretched out a hand through the darkness and touched the cold face that the faithful spirit had fled. How soon his own would follow he knew not, nor cared. Keeping close to the floor, he crept out and around to the front of the altar. Reaching up, he grasped the Sacred Host, and then stood upright, holding it out before him. Carmen rose by his side and took his hand. Together in the gloom they waited.
CHAPTER 33
“Padre! Padre! are you alive?”
Rosendo’s hoarse whisper drifted across the silence like a wraith. He crept out and along the floor, scarce daring to look up. Through the darkness his straining eyes caught the outlines of the two figures standing like statues before the altar.
“Loado sea Dios!” he cried, and his voice broke with a sob. “But, Padre, they have stopped––what has happened?”
“I know not, amigo. Be patient. We are in the hands of God––”
“Padre––listen!” Carmen darted from the altar and ran to the door. “Padre!” she called back. “Come! Some one is speaking English!”
Josè and Rosendo hurried to the door. All was quiet without, but for an animated conversation between Don Mario and some strangers who had evidently just arrived upon the scene. One of the latter was speaking with the Alcalde in excellent Spanish. Another, evidently unacquainted with the language, made frequent interruptions in the English tongue. Josè’s heart beat wildly.