ariquita from
McKay's side and dragged her into the house.

The young sergeant, eager to protect his love from ill-usage, would
have followed, but he was confronted by Benito, who now stood in the
doorway, black and menacing, with a great two-edged Albacete knife in
his hand.

"Stand back, miscreant, hated Englishman, or I will stab you to the
heart."

Nothing daunted by the threat, McKay advanced boldly on Benito; with
one hand he caught his would-be assailant by the throat; with the
other the wrist that was lifted to strike. A few seconds more, and
Benito had measured his length on the ground, while his murderous
weapon had passed into the possession of McKay.

Having thus disposed of one opponent, McKay met a second, in the
person of Tio Pedro, who, slower in his movements, had also come out
in answer to his wife's appeal.

"Who are you that dares to intrude here?" asked Pedro, roughly. "I
will complain to the town major, and have you punished for this."

"Look to yourself, rather!" replied McKay, hotly. "I stand too high to
fear your threats. But you, thief and smuggler, I will bring the
police upon you and your accomplice, who has just tried to murder me
with his knife."

Tio Pedro turned ghastly pale at the sergeant-major's words. He had
evidently no wish for a domiciliary visit, and would have been glad to
be well rid of McKay.

"Let him be! Let him be!" he said, attempting to pacify Benito, who,
smarting from his recent overthrow, seemed ready to renew the
struggle. "Let him be! It is all a mistake. The gentleman has
explained his business here, and nothing more need be said."

"Nothing more!" hissed Benito, between his teeth. "Not when he has
insulted me--struck me! Nothing more! We shall have to settle accounts
together, he and I. Look to yourself Senor Englishman. There is no
bond that does not some day run out; no debt that is never paid."

McKay disdained to notice these threats, and, after waiting a little
longer in the hope of again seeing Mariquita, he left the house.

It was his misfortune, however, not to get speech with her again
before his departure. The few short days intervening before
embarkation were full of anxiety for him, and incessant, almost
wearisome, activity. He had made himself one moment of leisure, and
visited Bombardier Lane, but without result. Mariquita was invisible,
and McKay was compelled to abandon all hope of bidding his dear one
good-bye.

But he was not denie