ll open
the door--Love will set us free. We are not afraid. Remember, Paul
thanked God for freedom even while he sat in chains. And I am just as
thankful as he."

Jose knew as he kissed her tenderly and bade her go to her place of
rest on the bench beside Dona Maria that death stood between her and
the stained hand of Wenceslas Ortiz.

As morning reddened in the eastern sky Don Mario, surrounded by an
armed guard and preceded by his secretary, who beat lustily upon a
small drum, marched pompously down the main street and across the
_plaza_ to the church. Holding his cane aloft he ascended the steps of
the platform and again loudly demanded the surrender of the prisoners
within.

"On what terms, Don Mario?" asked Jose.

"The same," reiterated the Alcalde vigorously.

Jose sighed. "Then we will die, Don Mario," he replied sadly, moving
away from the door and leading his little band of harried followers to
the rear of the altar.

The Alcalde quickly descended the steps and shouted numerous orders.
Several of his men hurried off in various directions, while those
remaining at once opened fire upon the church. In a few moments the
firing was increased, and the entire attack was concentrated upon the
front doors.

The din without became horrible. Shouts and curses filled the morning
air. But it was evident to Jose that his besiegers were meeting with
no opposition from his own supporters in the fight of two days before.
The sight of the deadly rifles in the hands of Don Mario's party had
quickly quenched their loyalty to Jose, and led them basely to abandon
him and his companions to their fate.

After a few minutes of vigorous assault the attack abruptly ceased,
and Jose was called again to the door.

"It's Reed," came the American's voice. He spoke in English. "I've
persuaded the old carrion to let me have a moment's pow-wow with you.
Say, give the old buzzard what he wants. Otherwise it's sure death for
you all. I've argued myself sick with him, but he's as set as
concrete. I'll do what I can for you if you come out; but he's going
to have the girl, whether or no. Seems that the Bishop of Cartagena
wants her; and the old crow here is playing politics with him."

"Yes, old man," chimed in another voice, which Jose knew to be that of
Harris. "You know these fellows are hell on politics."

"Shut up, Harris!" growled Reed. Then to Jose, "What'll I tell the old
duffer?"

"Lord Harry!" ejaculated Harris, "if I ha