Riego was not grandly heroic; he was only a frightened little boy, but determined now to do his loyal best for the country that had sheltered him from oppression. And so, though the treacherous sands might seek to drag him down, though the dark chaparral yonder might hide—any fearsome thing!—Riego went forward.
And now the house of the big captain loomed black before him. Riego stole up the front steps. He knew behind which of the long, closed windows the señorita slept, and he approached and tapped fearfully upon it.
It was a frightened voice that called: "Who is that?"
Riego was not conscious how he answered, but he knew that a wave of relief flowed over him when the blind of the long window opened and he was drawn into the dark room by a pair of familiar hands.
The blind was closed after him and a light was struck.
The señorita's eyes were disclosed big and startled; her face was as white as the long robe she wore.
"What is it, Riego?" she gasped.
"They are coming!" he whispered.
"Who?" she exclaimed, catching him by the shoulders, "Who?"
"Alva," the boy answered, "and three hundred with him. They are going to surprise—our soldiers—and kill them while they sleep!"