In the full glare of the light against the blackness of the night, the crowd of dusky-faced, picturesque laborers hesitated. Standing on the platform under the arc that sputtered and sizzled—his back to the building—the single figure of Texas Joe was ready with menacing weapons. Behind the brick walls the handful of armed white men were waiting—watching. Miles away in the desert, Abe Lee was lying wounded and alone under the still stars, and somewhere in the night Willard Holmes, desperately holding his seat in the saddle, was forcing his already exhausted horse toward the end of his mission.
As the muscles of a tiger work and twitch when the beast makes ready for its spring, a movement agitated the mob, and a low growling murmur came from the mass of men. Texas spoke sharply. "Ready, you fellows in there! If they start let them have it."
The murmur swelled in volume into an angry, inarticulate roar. The movement increased. An instant more and it would launch the mob in a mad rush.
Suddenly, as a beast checked in its spring, they were still and motionless.
By the side of the old frontiersman on the platform under the light stood Barbara.
"Let me speak to them, Tex."
Without pausing for the astonished man to reply she spoke to the mob in
Spanish, her voice rising clearly and sweetly.
"Do you know me, friends?"
From different points in the crowd came the answers.
"Si, Senorita." "It is the daughter of Senor Worth." "Among the poor in
Rubio City La Senorita was an angel of mercy."