CHAPTER XI.

OUT OF THE LION’S MOUTH.

As the short sunset of the tropics had now merged into complete darkness, we crossed the patio without being noticed; but near the gateway several soldiers of the guard were seated round a small table, playing at cards by the light of a flickering lamp.

“Hello!  Who goes there?” said one of them, looking up.  “Pablo, the turnkey, and a friar!  Won’t you take a hand, Pablo?  You won a real from me last night; I want my revenge.”

“He is going with me as far as the plaza.  It is dark, and I am very near-sighted,” put in Carmen, with ready presence of mind.  “He will be back in a few minutes, and then he will give you your revenge, won’t you, Pablo?”

“Si, padre, con mucho gusto,” I answered, mimicking the deep guttural of the zambo.

“Good!  I shall expect you in a few minutes,” said the soldier. “Buene noche, padre!”

“Good-night, my son.”

“Now for the sentry,” murmured Carmen; “luckily we have the password, otherwise it might be awkward.”

“We must try to slip past him.”

But it was not to be.  As we step through the gateway into the street, the man turns right about face and we are seen.

“Halte!  Quien vive?” he cried.

“Friends.”

“Advance, friends, and give the countersign.”

“As you see, I am a friar.  I have been shriving a condemned prisoner.  You surely do not expect me to give the countersign!” said Carmen, going close up to him.

“Certainly not, padre.  But who is that with you?”

“Pablo, the turnkey.”

“Advance and give the countersign, Pablo.”

“Baylen.”

“Wrong; it has been changed within the last ten minutes.  You must go back and get it, friend Pablo.”

“It is not worth the trouble.  He is only seeing me to the end of the street,” pleaded Carmen.

“I shall not let him go another step without the countersign,” returned the sentry, doggedly.  “I am not sure that I ought to let you go either, father.  He has only to ask—­”

A sudden movement of Carmen’s arm, a gleam of steel in the darkness, the soldier’s musket falls from his grasp, and with a deep groan he sinks heavily on the ground.

“Quick, senor, or we shall be taken!  Round the corner!  We must not run; that would attract attention.  A sharp walk.  Good!  Keep close to the wall.  Two minutes more and we shall be safe.  A narrow escape!  If the sentry had made you go back or called the guard, all would have been lost.”

“How was it?  Did you stab him?”

“To the heart.  He has mounted guard for the last time.  So much the better.  It is an enemy and a Spaniard the less.”

“All the same, Senor Carmen, I would rather kill my enemies in fair fight than in cold blood.”