“We can do but one thing, Grant,” said Harding, with feeling, “and that is, die like Christian men—and brave men,” he added, after a pause; “for these cursed rancheros ought not to see any weakness in Americans.”
“They shall see none in me,” said Grant, firmly, “though I do think it hard to be sacrificed in this way!”
“One of the chances of war, Grant—only one of the chances of war,” said Harding, sturdily; and, at the same moment the count, for whom the men seemed to have been waiting, appeared on the corridor and waved his hand. The files turned away with their prisoners, and marching around the building, soon gained the bank of the river. Here they halted again, awaiting the approach of the count, who, like most men when assuming a fearful responsibility, seemed to act with much less than his usual prompt rapidity. The sun had already set, and there was only left the short twilight of that latitude before the falling of night, which must suspend the bloody act, perhaps forever.
But a few minutes were lost, however, when De Marsiac came hastily round the building, accompanied by ten of his rancheros with trailed arms. At a gesture from him the prisoners’ guards resumed their march, and crossing the river on the stepping-stones, before mentioned, soon gained the little open space where Harding had met Margarita. Selecting two trees which stood near each other, the count ordered his captives to be lashed securely to them; and then drawing his men some five paces off, gave the preliminary commands to a cold-blooded murder.
“Keep a strong heart, Grant,” said Harding, endeavoring to sustain his younger comrade in the awful hour. “Don’t let your courage fail now—it is too late!”
“This is a mere assassination,” said Grant, grinding his teeth.
“And will be speedily avenged,” added Harding, “more speedily than the vindictive scoundrel now thinks!”
De Marsiac caught these words, and paused. For a moment he seemed to hesitate whether to proceed. But his nature was too obstinate to admit more than a passing thought of change in his purpose; and without further noting the words of Harding, he resumed his attitude of command. While he seemed to hesitate, his men had brought their guns to the ground—and they were now to be brought up again by the successive movements of the manual. The delay arising from this cause, probably saved the lives of both the prisoners.
A quick, light footstep was heard rapidly approaching along the main walk, and a moment afterward, Margarita, accompanied by one of her women, rushed into the area and threw herself, without hesitation, between the prisoners and their executioners.
“Count!” she exclaimed, her eyes flashing fire, and her voice attesting the extremity of her emotion, “is this the way you keep your promises with one to whose hand you aspire! Down with your arms, miscreants, and begone! I am mistress here!”