"At the heart of your best friend," replied the soldier, in a voice of which the well-known accents thrilled Hererra's blood.
"Mariano!" he exclaimed.
"Himself," replied Mariano Torres.
Just then the gipsy, who had reached the ground, sprang upon the disguised Christino, and made a furious blow at him with his knife. Torres raised his arm, and the blade passed through the loose sleeve of his capote. Herrera hastened to interfere.
"'Tis a friend," said he.
The gipsy made a step backwards, in distrust and uncertainty.
"I tell you it is a friend," repeated Herrera—"a comrade of my own, who has come to aid my escape. And now that you have rescued me, act as our guide to the nearest Christino post, and your reward shall be ample."
The mention of reward seemed at once to remove the doubts and suspicions of the esquilador. Returning to the rope which dangled from the window, he cut it as high up as he could reach.
"They may perhaps miss the sentry and not the prisoner," said he.
At that moment a dark form turned the corner of the house.