Hernandez spurred his horse close up.

"Has not the master of the mine any message to send to Hernandez, the
master of the Campo?"

The truth of the comparison struck Charles Gould heavily. In his
determined purpose he held the mine, and the indomitable bandit held
the Campo by the same precarious tenure. They were equals before the
lawlessness of the land. It was impossible to disentangle one's activity
from its debasing contacts. A close-meshed net of crime and corruption
lay upon the whole country. An immense and weary discouragement sealed
his lips for a time.

"You are a just man," urged the emissary of Hernandez. "Look at those
people who made my compadre a general and have turned us all into
soldiers. Look at those oligarchs fleeing for life, with only the
clothes on their backs. My compadre does not think of that, but our
followers may be wondering greatly, and I would speak for them to you.
Listen, senor! For many months now the Campo has been our own. We
need ask no man for anything; but soldiers must have their pay to live
honestly when the wars are over. It is believed that your soul is so
just that a prayer from you would cure the sickness of every beast, like
the orison of the upright judge. Let me have some words from your lips
that would act like a charm upon the doubts of our partida, where all
are men."

"Do you hear what he says?" Charles Gould said in English to Antonia.

"Forgive us our misery!" she exclaimed, hurriedly. "It is your character
that is the inexhaustible treasure which may save us all yet; your
character, Carlos, not your wealth. I entreat you to give this man your
word that you will accept any arrangement my uncle may make with their
chief. One word. He will want no more."

On the site of the roadside hut there remained nothing but an enormous
heap of embers, throwing afar a darkening red glow, in which Antonia's
face appeared deeply flushed with excitement. Charles Gould, with only a
short hesitation, pronounced the required pledge. He was like a man who
had ventured on a precipitous path with no room to turn, where the only
chance of safety is to press forward. At that moment he understood
it thoroughly as he looked down at Don Jose stretched out, hardly
breathing, by the side of the erect Antonia, vanquished in a lifelong
struggle with the powers of moral darkness, whose stagnant depths breed
monstrous crimes and monstrous illusions. In a few words the emissary
from Hernande