all. In a few moments they were beneath Roldan; he could hear the
slight impact with the air. Then once more he strained his eyes until
he thought they would fly from his head, and his lungs seemed bursting.
They were approaching the west gate.

They passed it. There could be no doubt now that they purposed to
attack the north gate; but Roldan dared not ring until they were well
away from the west side, lest they change their plans and his signal
mislead.

As they reached the corner of the wall they suddenly accelerated their
pace as if impatience mastered them. When the tail of the procession
had whisked about and Roldan saw a compact mass move like a black cloud
before the wind toward the north gate, he caught the rope in both hands
and jangled with all his might.

The great clapper hurled itself against the mighty sides of the bell
with a violence which split the nerves and made the ear-drums creak.
The blood surged to Roldan's head, carrying chaos with it. He had a
confused sense of a flood of light in the plaza below, but could hear
no other sound except the deafening uproar in his ears. Suddenly
something gave way beneath his feet. He had an awful feeling of
disintegration, of solid parting from solid in empty space. He kicked
out wildly. His feet touched nothing. Then his head suddenly cleared,
although the deep tones of the bell still seemed echoing there, and he
became aware that his descent had stopped, and that his hands, torn and
aching, were still clutching the rope. He knew what had happened. He
had stepped too far and gone through one of the arches.

There was no time for fright. He began to pull himself up by the rope,
hand over hand. At the same time he was acutely conscious of many
things. The Indians were yelling like demoniacs and battering at the
gate. In the garden on the other side, the old priest was shouting Ave
Marias in a high quavering voice. A breeze had sprung up and Roldan
felt the chill in it. And he felt the weight of the cassock. The heavy
woollen garment fatigued his arms and impeded his progress. Were it not
for that he could scramble up like a monkey.

He was within two feet of the top. Suddenly he felt a slackening of the
rope, accompanied by a faint sickening sound. The rope was old, it was
giving way.

Roldan made a wild lurch for the projecting floor of the belfry. The
rope broke. He went down.

He had heard that a drop, however swift, might seem to occupy hours to
the d