Nothing of the kind was attempted. I had full control of my rescuers—who were altogether unconscious of the service they had done me—ignorant also of the fact that it was I, not the Mexican, who had sent their camarado to his long account!
For myself I had no fear of them. I only feared for my friend: who, if left to their tender mercies, would never have paid another visit to the Street of the Bishop.
I did not leave him to be judged by the Red Tribunal. I made a compromise with their self-esteem—by taking a lead in his arrest!
To this the accused man, with some show of reluctance, submitted; and, in ten minutes after, he was transported to the Cuartel, occupied by the Rifle Rangers—though not to suffer the degradation of being shut up in its guard-house.
Chapter Twenty One.
Six O’clock—in the Alameda!
I had little difficulty in clearing the paroled officer from the charge of assassinating “a member of the Spy Company.”
As soon as his accusers discovered what I knew of that affair, they not only withdrew their accusation, but their own precious persons, beyond the reach of court-martial inquiry.