“The trunk of a tree cannot always control its branches,” the sergeant observed, “and most certainly cannot prevent any foul bird from building nest in them. That is a deep saying—eh, fray? Ponder over it while you are waiting for the fighting to begin.”
“I think your suspicion is an injustice,” the fray returned. “It is more likely this Fly-by-Night has held Rojerio Rocha for torture, since he knows Señor Rocha is expected to wed our Anita, and he himself has made boasts that he would win her.”
“At any rate, this Captain Fly-by-Night is a clever rogue,” the sergeant declared. “Hah! I have a score or two to settle with that fine caballero when next we meet!”
“And I!” the comandante added.
“May the saints give him to my blade!... Is there more to be done before the imps of Hades descend upon us?”
A fray reported.
“I have had all water casks filled, as was ordered, for human use and to fight fire. There is not a break on the four sides of the plaza except at the end of the adobe wall; and there we left room for Ensign Sanchez and his men to enter.”
Cheers came to them now from the plaza, and the sergeant rushed to a window, then whirled toward the others with a glad cry.
“Sanchez has come!” he shouted. “And that dear pirate of a Gonzales is with him. Now bring on your gentiles and disloyal neophytes and your renegades and your Captain Fly-by-Night! Hah! My ensign has come!”
He ran to the door, hurled it open, and sprang out into the plaza, his sword clattering at his heels.