ombrero_
lower and trudged away in somber silence. It seemed the only decent
and sporting thing for me to stick, too, so I flung on Lupe's cape
and covered my face with a _mantilla_ and fled after them. The C.E.
was furious and tried his frantic best to make me go back, but I
wouldn't and I whispered to him that I'd never forgive him as long
as I lived if he told and spoiled everything. My dear, they took us
to that horrible prison ... with the bloodstains on the floor! The
man at the desk was nearly asleep. He scribbled something in his
Dream Book and produced a key three feet long at least, unlocked a
door, pushed us in, and clanged it shut behind us. We were in the
main court with the murderers and the newsboys and the sodden
drunkards.... A guard with a gun showed us two cells opening off the
court. We crouched on stools in the back of one of them and the C.E.
said between his teeth, "Keep that thing over your face and keep
_still_!"

Then I stopped admiring myself and realized what I had done and where
I was ... a Gringo woman in a Guanajuato prison at night.... But
every hour that I stayed there saw my _novios_ nearer to safety,
and the Budders wouldn't know and wouldn't worry. Sally, I'm glad I
had a firm Vermont Scriptural upbringing! I can always find
something, ready to my hand,--a staff to lean on. I thought of a
funny one I've always loved--one of the Proverbs, I think----

"_The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth
into it and is safe._"

I wasn't very sure I was "a righteous" but I tried valiantly to
remember all the worthy actions I had done, and I don't mind telling
you they rather piled up,--from Lupe to the bored old bear. I
runneth-ed into my tower and felt a good deal safer, I make no doubt,
than my poor C.E.

There was a nameless age of black silence, and then there was a
crowded hour of glorious life. When I heard the shouts and then the
shots I tried to remember Sydney Carton and the French aristocrats
taking snuff on the steps of the guillotine, and I tried to think of
something handsome and dressy in the way of a farewell speech, in
case it might ever be reported in the States. The C.E. was splendid,
only, when the great doors clanged open and the mob streamed in
calling wildly for Emilio Hernandez, he very naturally