"God!" I cried.
A shot rang out on the far side of the pier.
"What is that?" exclaimed the padre.
I explained, and my statement was punctuated with the report of the second pistol.
"So—he has tried them," said the padre. "Now they will be reloaded. You will kill him, my son! It is God's will!... Malgares is not yet of the revolution, but he is a true friend of Don Pedro. At dawn I went to appeal to him to challenge Medina—His wife confessed that he had come here as your second. I have ridden at breakneck speed—God be praised, I am in time! You will kill the traitor!"
"You are in time," I said. "I will place my ball so exactly between his eyes that you cannot measure a hair's-breadth farther on the one side than on the other."
"God bless you, my son! You will save Alisanda and the revolution with the same shot!"
"I did not suspect that you were one of the revolutionists," I muttered.
"For years,—like Padre Hidalgo in the South. But come. Malgares signs to us."
We hastened forward to the corner of the pier, where Malgares stood ready to hand me my pistol. Medina already was in waiting, ten paces from the spot to which Malgares led me. At sight of Father Rocus, the aide and Walker started. But the padre at once reassured them: "It is well, gentlemen. I come only to act as witness."