"Ho! ho! my fine fellow," said the Commandant, rattling his sabre, "we shall soon see the end of this fine game!"
At last the door fell in fragments, but unfortunately one strong iron bar still remained across the aperture; the daylight streamed into the vault, and now, like a baited wild beast, Antonio, who was still fettered to the iron bar, dragged himself toward the doorway, armed with the large key, which was about a foot long.
When another bastonero attempted to enter by stooping, a blow from the key fell like a thunderbolt upon his defenceless head, and he was dragged out by the heels, apparently in a dying state.
Several others who ventured in met with the same fate; the whole place became splashed with blood; the consternation increased, and the authorities were at their wits' end, for the doorway was so small that one person alone could enter at a time, and then only when stooping low,—a position which placed them completely at the mercy of Antonio.
For another hour did that frenzied ruffian keep all at bay, replying to the threats of the Commandant, the entreaties of Fra Anselmo, and the suave legal rhetoric of the Judge of the First Instance with laughter and derision.
Tired at last of wielding his large key, or finding that none would come within reach of it, he flung it at the group outside, and broke the nether jaw of the escribano, who left the field of battle with great precipitation.
The commandant now summoned a party of soldiers, and twelve men of the castle guard came, under the orders of the lieutenant, Don Luiz Pineda, who at once ordered them to load with ball-cartridge.
On seeing these dire preparations, which he could no longer withstand, Antonio ceased in his untimely ribaldry. Great drops of perspiration poured over his low but narrow temples. His dark brow was furrowed deeper, as if by baffled rage and futile ferocity; his black eyes glistened with a fearful glare, and his vast bulky form seemed to dilate in muscular strength and size; the blue pallor of death passed over his thin and cruel lips, but still they were writhed by a mocking smile.
"Senor Don Luiz," said Fra Anselmo, "I entreat you not to have him shot dead——"
"What then, Senor Padre?"