What would they do with me?
I had engaged the official forces of Bolivar, my friend had tumbled the sacred person of the mayor in the dust, and altogether I might be looked upon as a very dangerous firebrand in the camp.
Many a man, for much less, has been stood up before a file of soldiers and riddled with lead.
Nor was it supposable that they would allow me to communicate with our resident consul.
My fate must be determined another way.
Somehow I did not worry very much, for I knew such lovers of golden bait as our worthy alcalde had proven himself, all have their price.
I had immense means, and doubtless would be given a chance to buy my liberty, on condition that they might never be made to suffer.
And Hildegarde—I would not move my little finger to save my life if she were not considered in the deal, too.
There was no use in angering the man in whose hand my fate lay, so I simply told him I was willing to accept of his hospitality.
My nerve somewhat staggered the old chap, but he grinned in a self-satisfied way, and gave me to understand, in very forceful Spanish, that I had done enough six times over to merit death, and that he would take my case into consideration; meanwhile his soldiers had been instructed to fill me very full of lead at the first sign on my part of a desire for flight.