ape a third time."

At his command six of the crack Dragoons stood forth. They were brown,
and Mexicans. Lopez bowed to Dupin, who called forth as many Contras.
The Contras were of variously hued races, but they were all the Tiger's
whelps. The file of Dragoons was jaunty crimson, the other corroded red.
Driscoll fell in meekly between them.

"Sacred name of a dog, you are honored, senor!" Dupin exclaimed
reprovingly. It angered him when a victim quailed. The present one ought
to appreciate, too, that he was answering for two besides himself, for
Murguia and Rodrigo, whose escape had wrenched the old warrior's bowels.

The Storm Centre glanced at the picked hussars, at the famously infamous
Cossacks, and assented modestly. So plain in gray, he did indeed look
colorless among them. The Contra at his elbow was an American, whose
brutish, swaggering scowl meant the world to know what a bad man he was.
The type gives the decent citizen a mad desire to be bad himself just
once, only long enough to prove the tough a contemptible sham.
Driscoll's neighbor leered ferociously, that the prisoner flanked by
sabres and muskets might respect him and be cowed. Driscoll kept him in
mind, and in the tail of his eye.

There was one anxiety for the Storm Centre. If they should bind him! But
they had not, he was so docile. And as they marched out the door, he
exulted, and could hardly wait. Wouldn't it be a lovely row, though!
Just one good, last good time! He did not feel hard toward them, not
when they had left off the ropes. He felt that he was to have value
received, and all the while he figured out his desperate campaign.

As they passed outside beyond the window's sphere of light, docility
changed to whirlwind. A blow with his left, a jerk with his right, and
he had the tough's carbine. He swung it between the two files, a grazing
circle. He got blows in return, but not a man fired. That was because of
the darkness, and a first shot would inspire a wild, general fusillade,
endangering them all. As it was, the blows were impartial, except one,
which came down with pointed favoritism on the tough's cranium. After
that Driscoll helped one side or another, and when they were nicely
mixed, he ran. He got as far as the road, but to find a troop of cavalry
charging down upon him. Changing ends with the carbine, he fired from
the waist at the leader of the new arrivals. This leader dropped his
sabre, plunged heavily, and was dragged by