Not till then had I the slightest suspicion of what the Red Hats were after. Some “bit of burglary,” I supposed, done in open day; for there was no reason to think the contrary. I could see they were a straggling lot—out on their own account, and without authority.
I was not enlightened about their object, till I saw the face of Francisco Moreno behind the half-opened door, scowlingly confronting them!
It was his house; though I had not before recognised it.
The conclusion came quick as electricity. They were there to arrest him, for killing one of their comrades on the night before, or being an accomplice in the act!
I heard them make the declaration to the young soldier himself.
They had sufficient respect for the law to treat with him for a quiet surrender. More probably they feared his resistance—as he stood sword in hand in the doorway—looking like anything but a man who was going to give himself up!
Had he yielded, they would scarce have kept faith with him. I had no doubt of their intention to slay him upon the spot, instead of taking him to their quarters.
It was a crisis that called for my interference; and I interfered.
It only needed the throwing open my cloak, and pointing out the “spread eagle” on my button.
The slightest disobedience to me would have cost them a score of lashes each—“on the bare back, well laid on.” Such was the phrasing of our military courts.