"You might have spared yourself the trouble," remarked José; "they shall not be put on."
"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Santiago; "what does it matter? Better so than that you two should lose your lives."
I looked at José. His lips were set like a vice, and I knew that no power on earth could move him now. The situation was decidedly unpleasant, and unfortunately there seemed to be no way out. True, he might kill the governor, but that would only still further complicate matters.
The soldiers, as usual, stood with impassive faces; the affair was none of theirs, save so far as obeying orders went. The officers were restless and uneasy, and one of them kept up a whispered conversation with the governor, who listened impatiently, and from time to time shook his head.
At last two other men arrived, bearing a set of heavy irons, and once again Santiago turned appealingly, but without effect, to José.
One might have heard a pin drop when the governor, sheltering behind his officers, cried in a loud voice, "Put that man in irons!"
"Stand still!" said José, raising his pistol, and speaking in the Indian dialect.
How the dispute would have ended I cannot tell, but at that moment a happy inspiration flashed into my mind. The soldiers were all Indians, and judging by their appearance, Indians of the mountains. Was it possible that any of them acknowledged the authority of the Silver Key? If so, we were safe. It was a poor chance, but there seemed to be no other.
Trembling with impatience, I opened my shirt at the neck, and drew forth the brigand chief's gift. At first no one took any notice; but when I held the key to view, the Indians raised a shout of mingled joy and surprise. Then I looked at Santiago and laughed, saying, "We are safe!"
The Indians jabbered away in their own language, talking with one another, and pointing to the emblem of authority which hung from my neck. The governor stood like a man in a dream; the officers gazed alternately at me and the native soldiers, as if doubting the evidence of their senses.