"I am afraid that I missed that rascally chief inquisitor," Ned said. "Did you notice, Tom?"
"I scarcely saw, for at the same moment I was struck from behind; but I fancy that he fell, when your pistol exploded."
"In that case," Ned said, "we may have a respite, for a day or two. He will feel inclined to be present at the ceremony of torturing, himself.
"On one thing I am determined. We will not be taken by the men in black, and submit to having our limbs wrenched, without an effort. I should think that, if we snatch up some of the iron instruments lying about, we can manage to make such a resistance that they will have to kill us, before we are overcome. If I could kill myself, I certainly would do so. I do not think I am a coward, Tom, but I confess that the sight of those horrible instruments makes my blood run cold."
"I feel with you, Ned. Death itself were nothing; but to be torn, limb from limb, is something horrible."
The day passed, without any visit being paid to them. No food was brought in, and they were left, as if forgotten, by their jailors. Thus they were unable to tell the hour and, as it was perfectly dark, it was by guesswork that they at last lay down to sleep on the damp stones.
Presently they were awoke by the tramp of numerous footsteps. Then there was a tremendous battering at the door.
"What on earth are they doing?" Ned exclaimed. "Have they lost the key, and are they going to break open the door, and finish with us, now? Get ready. We will make a fight at once, and try and end it."
Presently the door gave way before the heavy blows which were struck upon it; and, to the astonishment of the lads, a band of Indians, naked to the waist and holding torches, burst into the cell.
"Here they are!" exclaimed one of them, in Spanish.