an aimed rifle, Arlington heard--not the
report of a gun, but what surprised him more--his own name shrieked
by Evaleen Hale. The hurried, excited appeal of the captives made
clear the prompt and only course for the man to take. He hastened to
the front door again, and now saw a reason why the strong bolts on the
outside had been fastened. These he drew, and almost heaving the door
off its hinges, rushed into the den. Mex stood on guard in the first
partition door, a butcher knife in her hand. Slight parley did the
athletic, impetuous Virginian ranger hold with the dragon who
interposed between him and his lady-love. "Drop the knife! Throw up
your hands!" he demanded, with an emphasis of desperation, which left
no doubt of his intentions. Mex knew the meaning of pistols; she was
cowed; the knife fell and her hands went up. Secretly she was glad to
be foiled. She wished to be rid of the woman Palafox admired, and she
could think of but two modes of disposing of her--killing her or
letting her escape. Slowly walking backward, menaced by a cocked
pistol, Mex retreated to the door of the room in which the ladies were
locked up. The bolts were unfastened by her, the door swung inward,
and the prisoners sprang to freedom. Now again Mex showed fight. She
flashed Pepillo's poignard from a hidden sheath and made at Arlington,
who struck the weapon down, shoved the savage woman back into the
room, and bolted the door.

XX. MOSTLY LOVE MATTERS.

Captain Winslow and those with him in the yawl at the time of the
sinking of the barge, intent on their work of landing and of managing
the cordelle, did not witness the rescue of Miss Hale and her
companion. The place where the yawl came to shore, was overhung by
bushes, and shut from view in the direction of the mouth of the bayou
by trees and branches just blown down. Throughout the disastrous
half-hour, only Dr. Deville thought less of self-preservation than of
the safety of others. Constantly he tried not to lose sight of his
daughter and of Evaleen, and he felt sure he had seen the girls going
ashore in a skiff, rowed by two men. The boatman, who escaped by
swimming when his fellows went down in the whirl of the eddy, could
not believe but that the women were drowned.

Winslow and his drenched crew followed Dr. Deville down to the angle
formed by the river and the bayou, where stood those of the wreckers
not employed with oar or boat-hook. And now the conclusion of the
s