onkey carrying two bundles tied up in blankets. Further
on Ignacio shouted again to pass a carreta, a long wooden box on two
high wheels, with the door at the back swinging open. Some ladies in it
must have recognized the white mules, because they screamed out, "Is it
you, Dona Emilia?"

At the turn of the road the glare of a big fire filled the short stretch
vaulted over by the branches meeting overhead. Near the ford of a
shallow stream a roadside rancho of woven rushes and a roof of grass had
been set on fire by accident, and the flames, roaring viciously, lit
up an open space blocked with horses, mules, and a distracted, shouting
crowd of people. When Ignacio pulled up, several ladies on foot assailed
the carriage, begging Antonia for a seat. To their clamour she answered
by pointing silently to her father.

"I must leave you here," said Charles Gould, in the uproar. The flames
leaped up sky-high, and in the recoil from the scorching heat across the
road the stream of fugitives pressed against the carriage. A middle-aged
lady dressed in black silk, but with a coarse manta over her head and a
rough branch for a stick in her hand, staggered against the front wheel.
Two young girls, frightened and silent, were clinging to her arms.
Charles Gould knew her very well.

"Misericordia! We are getting terribly bruised in this crowd!" she
exclaimed, smiling up courageously to him. "We have started on foot. All
our servants ran away yesterday to join the democrats. We are going to
put ourselves under the protection of Father Corbelan, of your sainted
uncle, Antonia. He has wrought a miracle in the heart of a most
merciless robber. A miracle!"

She raised her voice gradually up to a scream as she was borne along by
the pressure of people getting out of the way of some carts coming up
out of the ford at a gallop, with loud yells and cracking of whips.
Great masses of sparks mingled with black smoke flew over the road;
the bamboos of the walls detonated in the fire with the sound of an
irregular fusillade. And then the bright blaze sank suddenly, leaving
only a red dusk crowded with aimless dark shadows drifting in contrary
directions; the noise of voices seemed to die away with the flame;
and the tumult of heads, arms, quarrelling, and imprecations passed on
fleeing into the darkness.

"I must leave you now," repeated Charles Gould to Antonia. She turned
her head slowly and uncovered her face. The emissary and compadre of