The revolutionary leader paused for a moment to give weight to his next words.
“Therefore,” he said slowly, enjoying every moment of the little drama in which he was the chief character, “the council has decreed that you shall die at sunrise tomorrow.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tim, raging at the injustice of the whole thing, leaped, forward, his fists clenched, but Dugan caught his arms and whispered in his ear.
“Easy, Tim, easy. You’ll only get a knife in your ribs.”
Tim could see the truth in Dugan’s words and allowed himself to be led back to the stinking little building which was dignified by the word “prison.”
“Isn’t there any way we can get word to the American authorities?” asked Tim.
“I’m afraid not,” replied the daredevil. “Once a fellow comes below the border he’s pretty much on his own and it’s up to us to get out of here before daylight tomorrow. It won’t be long before dark and then we’ll see what can be done.”
Tim, restless and angered by the events which had just taken place, paced about the room, testing the bars at the windows and kicking the dobe walls in an attempt to find some weakness. The idea of facing a firing squad in the morning did not strike him as especially alarming for he had confidence that in some way he and the daredevil would be able to make their escape.
The shadows of evening were already filling the plaza when Dugan went to a window and raised a shout for food. A guard ordered him to be silent, but he only increased his clamor until his cries attracted the attention of General Lopez, who was taking his evening stroll on the far side of the square.