es watching closely, she had the air of a young, beneficent
Medea, intent on some white magic.

"Aren't you coming," called Heywood, "to sit with us awhile?"

"Can't, thanks," she replied, without looking up. "I'm too busy."

"That's no excuse. Rest a little."

She moved away, carrying her medicines, but paused in the door, smiled
back at him as from a crypt, and said:--

"Have _you_ been hurt?"

"Only my feelings."

"I've no time," she laughed, "for lazy able-bodied persons." And she was
gone in the darkness, to sit by her wounded men.

With her went the interval of peace; for past the well-curb came another
figure, scuffing slowly toward the light. The compradore, his robes lost
in their background, appeared as an oily face and a hand beckoning with
downward sweep. The two friends rose, and followed him down the
courtyard. In passing out, they discovered the padre's wife lying
exhausted in a low chair, of which she filled half the length and all
the width. Heywood paused beside her with some friendly question, to
which Rudolph caught the answer.

"Oh, quite composed." Her voice sounded fretful, her fan stirred weakly.
"Yes, wonderfully composed. I feel quite ready to suffer for the faith."

"Dear Mrs. Earle," said the young man, gently, "there ought to be no
need. Nobody shall suffer, if we can prevent. I think we can."

Under the orange trees, he laid an unsteady hand on Rudolph's arm, and
halting, shook with quiet merriment.

"Poor dear lady!" he whispered, and went forward chuckling.

Loose earth underfoot warned them not to stumble over the new-raised
mound beside the pit, which yawned slightly blacker than the night.
Kempner's grave had not been quieter. The compradore stood whispering:
they had found the tunnel empty, because, he thought, the sappers were
gone out to eat their chow.

"We'll see, anyway," said Heywood, stripping off his coat. He climbed
over the mound, grasped the edges, and promptly disappeared. In the long
moment which followed, the earth might have closed on him. Once, as
Rudolph bent listening over the shaft, there seemed to come a faint
momentary gleam; but no sound, and no further sign, until the head and
shoulders burrowed up again.

"Big enough hole down there," he reported, swinging clear, and sitting
with his feet in the shaft. "Regular cave. Three sacks of powder stowed
already, so we're none too soon.--One sack was leaky. I struck a match,
and nearly blew myself to C