bles will be over to-morrow," he said, "and it is fitting
that they should end on such a day, because it is Palm Sunday."

The recruits gave a cheer.

"Do we go down to the coast?" one of them asked.

Urrea smiled with his whole face, and with the gesture of his hands,
too. But he shook his head.

"I can say no more," he replied. "I am not the general, and perhaps I
have said too much already, but be assured, brave foes, that to-morrow
will end your troubles. You fought us gallantly. You fought against
great odds, and you have my sympathy."

Ned had said no more. He was looking at Urrea intently. He was trying,
with all the power of his own mind and soul, to read this man's mind and
soul. He was trying to pierce through that Spanish armor of smiles and
gestures and silky tones and see what lay beneath. He sought to read the
real meaning of all these polite phrases. His long and powerful gaze
finally drew Urrea's own.

A little look of fear crept into Urrea's eyes, as the two antagonists
stared at each other. But it was only for a few minutes. Then he looked
away with a shrug and a laugh.

"Now I leave you," he said to the men, "and may the saints bring you
much happiness. Do not forget that to-morrow is Palm Sunday, and that it
is a good omen."

He went out, taking the torchbearers with him, and although it was dark
again in the vaulted church, the recruits sang a long time. Ned sat down
with his back against the wall, and he did not share in the general joy.
He remembered the look that had come into Urrea's eyes, when they met
the accusing gaze of his own.

After a while the singing ceased, and one by one the recruits fell
asleep in the close, stifling air of the place. Ned dozed an hour or
two, but awoke before dawn. He was oppressed by a deep and unaccountable
gloom, and it was not lifted when, in the dusk, he looked at the rows of
sleeping figures, crowded so close together that no part of the floor
was visible.

He saw the first light appear in the east, and then spread like the slow
opening of a fan. The recruits began to awaken by and by, and their good
spirits had carried over from the night before. Soon the old church was
filled with talk and laughter.

The day came fully, and then the guards brought food and water, not
enough to satisfy hunger and thirst, but enough to keep them alive. They
did not complain, as they would soon be free men, able to obtain all
that they wanted. Presently the doors