Altsheler Joseph Alexander
The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

The lightning tinted the sky once more with itsphosphorescent gleam, and they did not see the soldier.

"Now for it!" said the man in a sharp, commandingwhisper. "Up with you and over the wall!"

John seized the crosspiece, and in another instantwas on the top of a wall of cedar posts twelve feet high.He did not know until afterward that the strong hand ofhis rescuer had helped him up. In another instant theman was beside him, and then the lightning flaredbrightly, showing vividly the huge castle, the stoneramparts, the moats and the two figures, naked to the waist, sitting on top of the cedar wall.

"Sentinela alerte!" was shouted far louder than usual, and "Sentinela alerte!" came the reply in the same tone.Two musket shots were fired, and the two figures, onewith a red stain on his side, sprang outward from thecedar fence into the second and smaller moat, which wasonly fourteen feet wide, although its outer wall was anearthwork rising very high above the water. Two orthree strong strokes carried them across, and withdesperate efforts they climbed up the high bank. They heardshouts, and they knew that when the lightning flaredagain more shots would be fired at them. It was thenthat John noticed the red stain on the side of hiscomrade, and all the reserves of mental strength that madehim so much like his brother, Philip, came to his aid.He snatched the package from his head, tore it apart, threw the serape around his body and stood up, erect anddefiant, pistol in hand. He would do something for thisman who had done so much for him.

The lightning flared again, a long quivering stroke, and the heads of half a dozen men appeared at the crestof the chevaux de frise, not twenty feet away. But JohnBedford looked at only one of them. He saw the swarthy, angry face of de Armijo. He seemed to be beckoningwith his sword to his men, but a flash like that of thelightning seared John's whole brain. He rememberedhow this man had struck him down, when he was chainedand helpless, and he fired point blank at the angry face.De Armijo fell back with a terrible cry. He was notdead, but the bullet had plowed full length across hischeek, and he would bear there a terrible red weal all therest of his life.

The lightning passed, and they were in completedarkness, but John felt a hand on his arm.

"Come," whispered his rescuer. "You did thatwell. Prison hasn't taken any of the manhood fromyou. We're outside everything now, and the others arewaiting for us."

They fled away together in the darkness.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE HUT IN THE COVE

John Bedford forgot everything in those momentsof wild exultation save the fact that he was free.The miracles had begun, and the whole chain wasnow complete. After three years in one cell he had leftbehind him forever, as he believed, the Castle ofMontevideo, and he was going straight to his brother andpowerful friends. He cast back only a single look, and thenhe saw the huge dim bulk of the castle showing throughthe mists and the rain. But presently the woods shut itfrom view, and he could not have seen it had he lookedagain. John's exultation, the vast rebound, grew. Hehad escaped, and he had struck down the enemy who hadstruck him. He felt equal to anything, and he forgot forthe moment that the man who had rescued him in such anextraordinary way was wounded. But the man himselfstopped soon.

"We'll wait here, Sir John of the Fleet Foot," hesaid. "Our friends who are frolicking in this thornyForest of Arden were to come if they heard the sound offiring, and we must not go far away lest we miss them.Truly that was a fine and timely shot of yours, Sir Johnof the Bold Escape, and I judged by the look of yourface that you had no love for the man at whom youfired."

"I did not," replied John. "He beat me, when Iwas in chains."

The other man uttered a low whistle.

"That was a nasty thing to do, but you are even. Ifhe's still alive he'll have a face that will scare a dog.

 
"Whate'er you do
Unto another,
Some day that other
Will do unto you.
 

"Bear that in mind, young sir. In the hour oftriumph do not rejoice too much in the fall of the man whohas failed, because when he achieves his triumph and youhave failed, which is likely to come to pass some time orother, he may make some moments exceedingly bitterunto thee. And now I shall dress myself, as I think Ihear the footsteps of visitors."

John remembered that he, too, was clad lightly, andhastily put on his upper garments, while his friend didlikewise. He now heard the steps, also, and they wererapidly coming nearer.

"Shouldn't we move?" he whispered. "Those mustbe Mexicans."

"No, we shouldn't move, because those are not thefootsteps of Mexicans. Those sounds are made by thehardy feet of just two persons. One of them is a large braveGerman man, whose tread I would know a mile away, andthe other, the lighter tread of whom is drowned in thevolume of sound made by his comrade, is a boy, a strong, healthy boy who comes from a little town in Kentucky, which has the same name as a big town in France."

John began to tremble all over. He knew what thesewords meant. His friend uttered a low whistle, andquickly a low whistle in reply came from a point nottwenty feet away. There was a moment of silence, thenthe approaching footsteps were resumed, the bushes wereparted, and, as the lightning flared once more across thesky, John Bedford and Philip Bedford looked into thefaces of each other.

They wrung hands in the darkness that followed thelightning flash, and, after the Anglo-Saxon fashion, saidbrief, inconsequential words. Yet the hearts of the twowere full, and both Bill Breakstone, who had done the lastmiracle, and Hans Arenberg were moved deeply.

"Your letter came, John," said Phil simply, "andwe are here. These are the best friends I ever had or thatanybody ever could have. The man who brought you outof the castle was Bill Breakstone, and the one with me isHans Arenberg. Without them I never could have reachedyou in the castle."

"You talk too much, young sir," said Bill Breakstone.

Then John suddenly remembered.

"Mr. Breakstone is wounded," he exclaimed. "Wetook off most of our clothes to swim the moat and Iremember seeing a red spot on his side."

"Like your brother, you talk too much," said BillBreakstone. "It seems to be a family failing with theBedfords. It's a mere scratch."

"No harm iss done where none iss meant," saidArenberg sententiously. "It iss also well for us soon tobe away from where we now are."

"That is true," said Breakstone. "The Mexicansundoubtedly will make some sort of a search and pursuit, though I don't think they'll carry it far on such a night.Come on boys, I'll lead, and the reunited family willbring up the rear. But no talking is best. You can'ttell what we might stir up."

He led the way, and the others followed in silence.They crossed a valley, reached a mountain slope andbegan to climb. Up they went for at least two hours, pausing at times for John to take breath and rest.Meanwhile the storm continued, with cold rain, an alternategroaning and whistling of the wind through the valley, deep rumblings of thunder, and now and then a brightflare of lightning. John caught only one other glimpseof the huge, ominous bulk of the Castle of Montevideo, but it was far below him now. He knew, too, that it wasimpossible for anybody to follow a mountain trail in suchdarkness and storm. But, despite his great joy, he wasfeeling an exceeding weariness of the body. The longconfinement had told heavily, but he would utter nocomplaint.

A half hour more, and they turned into a deep covewhich led three or four hundred yards into the Sierra.At its end stood a small cabin, built of logs and almosthidden under the overhang of the cliff.

"Welcome to our home, Sir John," said Bill Breakstone,"we have no title to it, and it probably belongedto some Mexican sheep herder or hunter, but since ourarrival none has appeared to claim it."

He threw open the door, and all went inside into thedry dark. John heard the door close behind him, a barfell into place, and then the striking of a match came tohis ear. A little blue flame appeared and grew.Arenberg, who had struck the match, lighted a pine torch, which he stuck at an angle in a hole in the wall, and afine red flame lighted up the whole interior of the littlecabin. Cabin! It was no cabin to John Bedford. Itwas a gorgeous palace, the finest that he had ever seen, and he was surrounded by the most devoted and daringfriends that man ever had. Had they not just proved it?

The little torch disclosed a hard earthen floor, uponwhich the skins of wild animals had been spread, logwalls with wooden hooks and pins inserted here and there, evidently within recent days, a strong board roof, raftersfrom which skins and some tools hung, a fireplace with astone hearth, and four narrow skin couches, three of whichhad been often occupied, the fourth never. Outside, thewind still wailed, and the cold rain still beat upon thelogs, but here it was warm, dry, and light. Thegreatness of it all suddenly overwhelmed John, and he sankforward in a faint.

Phil instantly seized his brother and raised him up, but Breakstone and Arenberg told him not to be alarmed, that it was merely the collapse of a weakened frame aftertremendous tension, both physical and mental. Breakstonebrought water in a gourd from a pail that stood inthe corner, and soon John sat up again, very muchashamed of himself, and offering many apologies, at allof which the others laughed.

"Considering all you've been through to-night," saidBill Breakstone, "it's a wonder that you held out so long.I wouldn't have believed that you could do it, if I hadn'tknown your brother so well. Good thing I learned to bean actor. I was always strong in those Spanish parts.Wide hat brim, big black cloak coming up to meet thehat brim, terrible sword at my thigh, and terrible frownbehind the cloak and the hat brim. Now, Hans, I thinkyou can light the fire on the hearth there. No chancethat anybody will see the smoke on a night like this, andthere's no reason why we shouldn't dry our clothes andhave a gay party. We've carried through our greatadventure, and we'll just royster over it awhile."

Arenberg, without another word, took down the pinetorch from its hole in the wall and ignited the heap of drypine boughs that lay in the fireplace. They caught atonce, crackled, and blazed pleasantly. Warm redshadows were soon cast across the floor, and a generous heatreached them all. They basked in it, and turned aboutand about, drying all their clothing and driving the lastsign of chill from their bones. Arenberg also made coffeeover the coals, and cooked venison, which they had inabundance. When John ate and drank in plenty, he feltthat life did not have much more to offer. He sat on oneof the skins, leaned comfortably against the wall, andcontemplated his younger brother.

"You have grown a lot, Phil," he said.

"You didn't expect him to stand still, just becauseyou were away locked up in a castle?" asked BillBreakstone. "He had to grow up, so he could come and rescueyou. Such tasks are too big for little children."

John Bedford smiled indulgently.

"It was certainly a big job," he said. "I am the onewho ought to appreciate most its size and danger. It wasa big thing to get through Texas even. Of course Ilearned while I was a prisoner in the castle that theMexicans had retaken it. It made me feel mighty bad for along time."

Phil and Bill Breakstone looked at each other. Arenbergpushed one of the pine-knots back into the fire. Fora little while there was silence. Then Breakstone said:

"You tell him, Phil."

John Bedford looked in wonder at the three, one byone. Their silence impressed him as ominous, and he, too, was silent.

"The Mexicans have not retaken Texas, John," saidPhilip Bedford. "They will never retake Texas. Theycould never beat the Texans alone, and the Texans are notalone. There has been war between the United Statesand Mexico for a year. An American army underGeneral Taylor beat the Mexican army at Palo Alto, at Resacade la Palma, and took the city of Monterey by storm.Then most of his army were drawn off to help GeneralScott, who is invading Mexico by the way of Vera Cruz.General Taylor, with the rest of his force, between fourand five thousand men, nearly all volunteers, many fromour own state, John, and some you knew, advanced toSaltillo and beyond. He was attacked in the Pass ofAngostura by Santa Anna, the President of Mexico, withmore than twenty thousand men, the best of the Mexicantroops, but, John, he won the victory over odds of five toone. It was long and hard and desperate, and a halfdozen times we were within an inch of losing the battle, but we won at last, John! We won at last! And weknow, because we three were there, all through it! all daylong! Bill Breakstone, Hans Arenberg, and I!"

John looked at them and gasped. It had all beenpoured upon him so suddenly that he was overpowered.

"War between Mexico and the United States!" heexclaimed, "and we've been winning battle after battle!Why, they never said a word to me about it in the castle.De Armijo made me think that the Mexicans had retakenTexas."

"I forgot to tell you," said Bill Breakstone to theothers, "that de Armijo knocked John down, when he waschained, but John got back at him to-night when heplowed his face with a bullet. In fact, I think Johnhas the better of the bargain:

 
"A blow-
He'll rue it.
A bullet-
That pays it.
 

"Now, I propose, as it's pretty near toward morning, and this is about the snuggest hotel I know of anywherein the Sierras, that John and I, who have been througha lot, go to sleep. Phil, you and Arenberg can toss coins,or decide in any other way you choose, who's to keepwatch. There's your bed, John; it's been waiting foryou quite awhile."

He pointed to the skin couch that had never beenoccupied, and John lay down upon it. Complete relaxationof both mind and body had now come. The room waswarm and dry, his friends were near, and, in twominutes, he was buried in a deep and dreamless sleep. Philrose and looked at him. His neck and wrists were thin, his face was wasted wofully. Arenberg watched Philipwith sympathy.

"Much harm has been done to him," he said, "buthe will overcome it all in a month. You have faredwonderfully well in your quest, Herr Philip, and I take it asan omen that we shall do as well in mine. I come next, you know, Philip."

"It is true," said Phil, with a great stirring of theheart. "Nobody ever had such help as you and Breakstonehave given to me, and now I will help you, andJohn, too, as soon as he is strong enough, to our utmostpower in whatever task you may have."

He held out his hand, and Arenberg took it in apowerful grasp.

"Now you sleep! I will watch," he said. "No, Iwill not let you stay awake, because I wish to do soinstead. I intend to think much with myself."

Phil saw that the German was in earnest, and he tookhis place on his own couch. Soon he was asleep.Arenberg sat on a piece of wood before the coals which werenow almost dead. He clasped his knees in his hands, and his rifle, which was between his knees, projectedabove his shoulder. So long as the light from the coalsendured he cast a black and almost shapeless shadow onthe wall. But the last coal went out by and by, and hesat there in the darkness, never stirring. He watchedautomatically through the faculty of hearing, but histhoughts were not on that little cabin nor any of itsoccupants. In the darkness his chest heaved, and abig tear from either eye rolled down his cheek. Buthe did not move. After awhile he felt the dawn, andwent to the single shuttered window, which he openedslightly.

The rain and wind had ceased, but drops of water, turned into a myriad of glittering beads by the rising sun, hung from trees and bushes. The air of the mountains atthat early hour was crisp and cold, and it felt good toArenberg's face. He glanced at his three comrades. Theywere still absorbed by that absolute sleep which is themortal Nirvana. Then Arenberg took from the inside ofhis coat something small, which he looked at for a longtime. Again a big tear from either eye rolled down hischeek and fell on the floor. But the face of HansArenberg, in that brilliant Mexican sun which now shonestraight upon it, was curiously transformed. For thefirst time in many days it was illumined with hope.

"It's my turn now! It's my turn!" he murmured."We have succeeded in everything so far, and we willsucceed again. I feel it. All the omens are good."

There is something mystic in the German nature, afeeling derived, perhaps, from the unknown ages passedby the Teutonic tribes in the dark forests of the Baltic.They were as prolific as the Greeks in seers and priestesses, and some of this feeling was in Arenberg now, ashe gazed at the dripping forest and the blazing sun risingover a peak ten thousand feet high. Below him he knewlay the Castle of Montevideo, but before him the mountainswere unrolled, peak after peak, and ridge after ridge. Tohis German mind came visions of Valhalla and the greatgods that were.

Hans Arenberg yet felt the great uplift of the spirit.The premonition of success, of a triumphant end to hisquest was very strong within him. He kissed the littlepackage and replaced it within the inside of his waistcoat.Then he looked again at his comrades. They were stillin Valhalla.

The German was very kindly and very pitiful. Hehad noticed the wasted frame of John Bedford, and heknew how much he needed sleep. Bill Breakstone, too, had gone through a tremendous ordeal, and Phil Bedfordwas but a boy, who had waited, tense and strained, allthrough the night.

"Let them sleep," murmured Hans Arenberg. "Iwill still watch."

He left the window open a little so that the fresh airmight come in, and resumed his seat. The other threeslept on soundly. An hour or two later he opened thedoor softly and went out into the cove, which he scoutedcarefully. It was as silent and desolate as if man hadnever been there. At forty yards the cabin itself wasinvisible in the foliage and against the dark, volcanic cliff.The German was quite sure that no one would come, but, for precaution, he examined every bush and projection ofrock. Then he climbed one of the cliffs, and, shelteringhimself well, looked down the valley. There, far below, was the huge, honey-colored Castle of Montevideo, seemingsingularly vivid and near in the intense sunlight.Arenberg thought that he could make out a figure or twoon its walls, but he was not sure. He also examined theslopes, but he could not detect human life. Then hereturned to the cabin and found his comrades still soundasleep. Arenberg smiled.

"Let them sleep on," he murmured, "until the sleepthat is in them is exhausted." He opened the door alittle in order that he might let in more fresh air, andalso because it gave him a complete view down thevalley. No one could approach the cabin without being seenby Hans Arenberg, who had uncommonly good eyes.

The German sat there all the morning and listened tothe hours as they ticked themselves away. He listenedliterally, and he heard the ticking literally, because hecarried a large silver watch in his waistcoat pocket, andin the dead silence, he could hear it very well. Hiscomrades slept on, each on his couch. Once Arenberg roseand looked at John Bedford.

"A fine young man," he murmured. "He iss worthyof his brother."

It was fully an hour after noon when Bill Breakstonebegan to squirm about on his couch and yawn mightily.

Then he opened his eyes, sat up, and stared at HansArenberg, who sat placidly by the fireplace, looking downthe valley.

"Hans!" said Bill Breakstone.

Arenberg looked at him and smiled.

"I'm thinking," said Bill Breakstone, "that we'veoverslept ourselves a bit. I guess from the looks of thelight there at the door that the sun must be up at leastan hour."

"It has been up seven hours," replied Arenberg.

"Then we're that much ahead," said Bill Breakstonecalmly, "and at least one of those two has needed itbadly."

He looked at the sleeping brothers.

"It iss so," said Arenberg. "The captive who iss acaptive no longer iss, I take it, a good youth, like hisbrother."

"He surely is," said Breakstone with emphasis, "andI have given him the honor of knighthood, along withPhil. Besides, he's as smart as a steel trap. He readthe meaning of the thread that we sent him, and he dideverything else exactly as we wished. It's all the morewonderful because so long a time in prison is apt to makeone dull and stupid in some ways. Anything happen onyour long watch, Hans?"

"Nothing. I made a scout all the way up the cove.I am sure there iss no human being except ourselves onthis mountain."

"I move that we boil a little coffee and fry a littlevenison for the youngsters. John, in particular, needsit, because he's got to be built up. I don't think there'sany danger."

"Then we'll light the fire and let the cooking wakethem up."

John Bedford, in a dream, as it were, felt a deliciousaroma in his nostrils. It was singularly pleasant to apoor prisoner in a bleak stone cell in the Castle ofMontevideo, and he did not wish to destroy the illusion. Inthe early morning the air that came through the loopholewas very cold, and there was no reason why he shouldrise. Perhaps he was really dreaming, and, since it wassuch a pleasant dream, he would let it run on. But thatodor in his nostrils grew more and more powerful, and itwas not like the odor of the frijoles and tortillas thatDiego brought him. He also heard, or thought he heard, the voices of men, and not one of them bore anyresemblance to the harsh Mexican tones of Diego. Then heremembered it all, and the truth came in such a suddenflood of delight that he sat up abruptly and lookedaround that wonderful cabin, the finest cabin in theworld.

Arenberg had just brought the coffee to a boiling point, the strips of venison, under the deft handling of BillBreakstone, were just becoming crisp. Phil was comingin with a canteen of fresh water, and at the wide-opendoor, through which he might pass as he pleased, thesunshine was entering like a golden shower.

"Morning, Sir John the Sleeper," said Bill Breakstonecheerily. "It's well along in the afternoon, but, ifyou were to ask me, I'd tell you that you hadn't slept aminute too long. Phil here has been up only fiveminutes before you, but, by running for the water, he'strying to make you believe that he's an early riser."

John said not a word, but rose to his feet-theyhad all lain down fully dressed-and looked at the opendoor with a gaze so fixed and concentrated that all staredcuriously at him. Something was working in John'smind, something deep and vital. He walked in aperfectly straight line across the cabin floor until he camewithin a foot of the open door. Then he stood there fora little space, gazing out.

The curiosity of the others deepened. What waspassing in his mind? But John said never a word. Instead,he stepped out in the sunshine and crisp air, went two orthree yards, and then came back again into the cabin.But he did not stay there. He went out once, came backonce more, and repeated the round trip four more times.All the while he said never a word, and, at each successivetrip, the look of pleasure on his face grew. At the sixththat look was complete, and he turned to the three whowere staring at him open-eyed and open-mouthed.

"I'm not crazy, as you think, not the least bit of it,"he said. "It's been three years since I could go out of adoor and come in at it as I pleased. I wanted to proveto myself that it was no dream, and to enjoy it at thesame time. I'll never have such an acute joy again inthis world, I suppose. As you haven't been where I'vebeen, you'll never know what it is to go in and come outwhen you like."

"We don't know, but we can guess," said Phil.

A little lump came into the throat of Bill Breakstone.

"I was never cooped up like that," he said, "but if Iwere, I guess I couldn't stand it. But the coffee and thevenison are ready, and while we set to and keep at it,Phil, you tell your brother how it all came about."

Phil was willing. He was so full of the story himselfthat he was anxious John should hear it all. Herecounted how the letter had reached him at Paris inKentucky, his journey to New Orleans, and his successivemeetings there with Arenberg, Middleton, and BillBreakstone; how they had joined the Santa Fé train and theirencounter with the Comanches, led by Santana and BlackPanther, the deeds of de Armijo, their long trailsouthward to join Taylor's army, and a description, as far ashe saw it amid the flame and smoke, of the great battleof Buena Vista. He told of the sharp lava, the pass, andof the woman at the well who had given the cup of waterto the weary prisoner who was but a boy.

"I remember her, I remember her well," said John, athrill of gratitude showing in his tone. "I believe I'dhave died if it hadn't been for that water, the finest thatanybody ever tasted. I knew from the voice that it wasa woman."

"We felt sure then," continued Phil, "that we wereon the right trail, and we believed that, with patienceand method, we'd be sure to find you if you were living.We knew that the letter had been brought to the Texasfrontier by Antonio Vaquez, a driver who had received itin turn from one Porfirio, a vaquero, and we knew fromyour letter that you were confined in some great stoneprison or castle. We learned of Montevideo, which isperhaps the greatest castle in Mexico, and everythingpointed to it as the place.

"The Mexican army retreated in great haste southwardafter Buena Vista, in order to meet Scott, who wasadvancing on Mexico by the way of Vera Cruz. That leftthe country comparatively clear for us, and we camethrough the mountains, until we saw the Castle ofMontevideo. When we saw it, we believed still more stronglythat this was the place, but we knew that the biggest partof our work was before us. We would have to spy, andspy, and keep on spying before we could act. Any muledriver or sheepherder might carry news of us, and wemust have a secure hiding-place as a basis. After a longsearch we found this cabin, which I don't think hadbeen occupied for several years. We soon fixed it up soit was comfortable, as you can now see. There's a littlespring at the west edge of the cove, and on the other sideof the ridge there's a little valley with water and grass, but with walls so steep that a horse won't climb 'emunless he's led. Our horses are there now, havingperhaps the best time of their lives.

"When we were located, good and snug, we began tospy. I believed after we met the woman at the well thatfortune was favoring us. Arenberg here talked a lotabout the spirits of the forest and the stream, some oldheathen mythology of his, to which Bill and I didn't payany attention. But anyway, we had luck. We scoutedabout the castle for weeks, but we didn't learn a thing, except that de Armijo was now governor there. We couldfind no more trace of you than if you had been on themoon.

"At last our lucky day came. We ran squarely upona good-looking young Mexican, a vaquero. There wasn'ttime for us to get away or for him to get away. So we, being the more numerous, seized him. I suppose hethought he was going to be killed at once, as we wereAmericans, looking pretty tough from exposure andhardships, and so to make a play on our good feelings-BillBreakstone could understand his Spanish-he said thatonce he'd tried to help a Gringo, a prisoner, in the greatcastle in the valley. He said he'd carried a letter fromhim, asking for help, and that the prisoner was not muchmore than a boy, taken in a raid from Texas three yearsago.

"It flashed over us all at once that we had found theright man. Everything fitted too well together to permitof a mistake, and you can believe that we treated Porfirio, the vaquero, the finest we knew how, and made him feelthat he had fallen into the hands of the best friends inthe world. Were you still alive? We waited withoutdrawing breath for the answer. You were still alive heanswered, and well, so far as a prisoner could be. Heknew that positively from his mother, Catarina, who wasa cook at the castle, although he himself would not staythere, as, like a sensible man, he liked the mountains andthe plains and the free life. He did not tell us of theblow that de Armijo had given you, perhaps becauseCatarina had said nothing of it to him, but we learnedthat he hated de Armijo, who had once struck him whenhe was at the castle, for some trifle or other-it seemsthat de Armijo had the striking habit-and after that wesoon made our little plot. Catarina, of course, was thecenter of it, and her duties as a cook gave her the chance.

"It was Catarina who put the thread in the tamale.She might have put the letter there, but the writing onit would have been effaced, and even if it could haveremained she did not dare. If the paper had beendiscovered by the Mexicans, she, of course, would have beendeclared guilty, but thread, even a package of it, mighthave found its way into the loose Mexican cooking, andif it had been discovered none of the sentinels or officerscould have made anything out of such a slender thing.We trusted to your shrewdness that you would drop thethread out of the window, because there was nothing elseto do with it, and you didn't fail us."

"But who tied the note on it?" asked John.

"Catarina, again-that is, she was at the end of thechain, Porfirio was in the middle, and we were at theother or far end. He passed the letter in to her-heworks about the castle at times-and she tied it on theend of the thread. The key and the dagger reached youby the same route. Then we knew that, although youmight unlock the door of your cell, you could never gooutside the castle without the aid of some one within.For that reason we told you the night on which to unlockit, and the very hour, in order that the right man mightbe waiting for you at the head of the stairway. BillBreakstone had to be that man, because he can speakSpanish and the Mexican dialects, and because, lucky foryou, he's been an actor; often to amuse others he hasplayed parts like the one that he played last night insuch deadly earnest.