But the roar of rage from the throat of the white man drowned the remainder of her sentence, and the neophyte did not hear. Standing against the wall he beheld the other man bearing down upon him with poniard ready.
“I am loyal!” he cried. “I will help you! You do not understand! I am Pedro, and I have——”
A hand clutched at his throat, the point of the blade was at his breast. He was hurled to the doorway, staggered, stumbled when the other man threw weight against him.
“Here is a loyal man—attend to him!” he heard his antagonist shriek.
Then he fell full length into the plaza, and shrieking hostiles rushed upon him.
“Do not—understand!” he gasped; and died from a pistol shot.
And a laughing renegade hurled the door shut, barred it securely, and still laughing turned to face the terror-stricken girl crouching at the corner of the big fireplace.
CHAPTER XXII
“COMMAND ME, SEÑORITA!”
He ignored her a moment longer, running to the window and looking out across the plaza. The doors of the church were closed, but from the windows streamed hot lead, and from all parts of the plaza, and from the rear outside, hostiles were firing at every aperture.
“’Twill not last much longer,” he said, laughing again, and then turned from the window and confronted the girl.