I tried to do everything decently and in order, but found it convenient to make each second tell, for I had already received several knocks from various missiles, thrown with more or less vigor, and there was danger lest one might do me irreparable damage.
When I flung myself over the wall, I was at first unable to find the ladder—my swaying feet struck only an empty void, and the awful thought came into my head that perhaps enemies had arrived in the calle and removed my only means of escape.
Just then, however, I heard a voice which I recognized even in the midst of the riotous proceedings as belonging to Robbins:
“To the left—only a foot or so—to the left!” was what he shouted.
Of course, I knew this was for my guidance—that he had seen my ineffectual search for the ladder, and was bent on telling me where it lay.
So I readily found footing, and lost no time in sliding down to the ground, where Robbins caught me in his arms, and set me on my feet.
It was just as well, for my head had begun to spin a little, possibly from the effect of a collision with an adobe brick that had not been any too soft.
“Why did you go back?” asked a voice, close to my ear—Hildegarde’s voice.
“To get the satchel,” I replied, grimly, “and to do it I had to tumble that magnificent old Gen. Toreado from the roof.”
“It was splendid; but, oh, so foolish of you!”