Major Stickney rose totteringly to his feet. “But—but—but—” he chattered, protestingly.
“Sit down!” Hibbs roared at him. “You’ve been preaching a h—l of a lot about duty. All right! I’m doing my duty now. And part of it is to drive out of this fort anybody that wants to see me and my men burned at the stake. As far you”—he whirled on Peter Bondie—“if you and your sister are afraid you can stay here.” He strode to the door then paused on the threshold. “Remember! One hour!” he rasped, and trumped out of the room, followed by his friends. A moment later the shrilling of a bugle called the garrison to arms.
Jack shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all right,” he sighed, smiling at Alagwa. “You poor girl! What a little heroine you are. You were a wonder as a boy, but as a girl—Good Heavens! How blind I’ve been. I might have known that no boy could or would have done all that you have done. Well, we haven’t much time——” He caught sight of Alagwa’s face and broke off. “What’s the matter—er—Bob?” he asked, gently.
Alagwa raised her face to his. In her eyes burned a light that Jack had never seen before—the light of renunciation. “The road is watched,” she said. “Metea and his braves watch it. If we evade them and pass unseen, they will come to the Maison Bondie at dawn, and if they find us gone they will pursue. We can not escape them. Therefore you must stay here, in the fort. I will go——”
“You?” Jack stared. Then he laughed. “You? My little comrade? My little—Bob? I wasn’t just talking a moment ago. I will be very proud and happy if you will be my wife. We’ve been jolly good friends, and we’ll keep on—with a difference. You will marry me, won’t you—dear?” He brought out the last word with a gulp.
Slowly Alagwa shook her head. “No!” she breathed.
Jack’s face showed surprise, perhaps disappointment, not to say dismay. He stared at the girl and hesitated. Then he looked at his watch. “Ten minutes of our hour is gone,” he said. “Bob, dear! you must marry me! I’ll tell you why in a moment. But first”—he turned to Rogers—“Rogers, go and get Father Francisco and bring him here. I’m not of his church, but I suppose he won’t object on that score.”
Rogers nodded and started for the door, but stopped as Alagwa raised her hand.
“Do not go,” she breathed. “It—is useless.”
Rogers hesitated, but Jack stepped over to him and spoke to him, and with a nod of comprehension he went out.