"With Casa Yrujo, after the death of Pitt deprived him of the hope of British ships and money."
"So—he is but a crack-brained trickster," I muttered. "We have chased his rainbows and landed in the mire. This is the end, señor. I go now. Tomorrow's sun will see me on my way up-river to St. Louis. May you find brave men enough in your own land to win freedom, without the costly aid of tricksters!"
"There are others than tricksters that share my plans—true-hearted men at New Orleans. The Mexican Association stands pledged,—three hundred and more loyal workers in the cause of my country's freedom."
"Creoles," I said. "You could count upon a hundred of my backwoods countrymen to do more, should it come to the setting of triggers."
"We shall see. But there are others than creoles in the association. Already Señor Clark has made two voyages to Vera Cruz, to spy out the defences. I go now to tell him more. You know something as to the power of our religious orders. At New Orleans are two such. But what is all this to you now?"
"Much, Don Pedro! My heart is with the success of your plans!"
"Muchas gracias, amigo! Would that you might journey with me to my people! But the gate at Vera Cruz is narrow for heretics. Adios!"
"Adios, Don Pedro. May we meet under brighter skies!"
"God grant it, Juan!" he cried, with unfeigned friendliness.
I clasped his hand, and hastened away. My heart was too full for words.