Silencio passed the night in wakeful watching and planning. Raquel slept the innocent sleep of a careless child. Gil had promised that all would come out well. She trusted him.

Very early in the morning the scouts whom Silencio had placed along the boundaries of his estate were called in, and collected within the patio of the casa. The outer shutters of the windows were closed and bolted; the two or three glass windows, which spoke of the innovation which civilization brings in its train, were protected by their heavy squares of plank. The doors were locked, and the casa at Palmacristi was made ready for a siege.

Silencio awakened Raquel as the first streak of dawn crept up from the horizon. Over there to the eastward trembled and paled that opalescent harbinger which told her that day was breaking. She looked up with a child's questioning eyes.

"It is time, sweetheart. Now listen, Raquel. Pack a little bag, and be ready for a journey."

Raquel pouted.

"Cannot Guillermina pack my bag?"

"No, not even Guillermina may pack your bag. When it is ready, set it just inside your door. If you do not need it, so much the better. You may open your windows toward the sea, but not those that look toward Troja."

Silencio flung wide the heavy shutter as he spoke. Raquel glanced out to sea.

"Oh, Gil! where is the Coco?"

"I wish I knew. She should be here."

"Are we to go on board, Gil?"

"Unfortunately, even should she arrive now, she is a half-hour too late. Now hasten, I will give you fifteen minutes, no more."

"We might have gone out in the boat, Gil. Oh! why did you not call me?"

Silencio pointed along the path to the right. Some of Escobeda's men, armed with machetes and shotguns, stood just at the edge of the forest, where at any moment they could seek protection behind the trees. They looked like ghosts in the early dawn.

"And where is your friend, Beltran?"

Silencio shook his head.

"He cannot have received my message," he said.

"And are the men of Palmacristi too great cowards to fight those wretches?"

Silencio started as if he had been struck. He did not answer for a moment; then he said slowly: "Raquel, do you know what we should be doing were you not here?—I and my men?"

He spoke coldly. Raquel had never heard these tones before.

"We should be out there hunting those rascals to the death, no matter how they outnumber us; but I dare not trust you between this and the shore. My scouts tell me that they have kept up picket duty all night. Escobeda expected the Coco back this morning; at all events, he was ready for our escape in that way. The orders of those men are to take you at any cost. Should I be killed, your protection would be gone. I am a coward, but for you only, Raquel, for you only."

The young wife looked down. The colour mounted to her eyes. She drew closer to her husband, but for once he did not respond readily to her advances. He was hurt to the core.

"Get yourself ready at once," he said. "I will give you fifteen minutes, no more. We have wasted much time already."

Raquel hardly waited for Silencio to close the door. She began to dress at once, her trembling fingers refusing to tie strings or push the buttons through the proper holes. As she hurriedly put on her everyday costume, she glanced out of the window to see if in the offing she could discover the Coco. The little yacht was at that very moment hastening with all speed toward her master, but a point of land on the north hid her completely from Raquel's view.

"Although he will not own it, he evidently intends to carry me away in the yacht." Raquel smiled. "So much the better; it will be another honeymoon."

When Silencio left Raquel, he ran out to the patio. On the way thither he met old Guillermina with a tray on which was her mistress's coffee. Upon the table in the patio veranda—that used by the servants—a hasty meal was laid. Silencio broke a piece of cassava bread and drank the cup of coffee which was poured out for him, and as he drank he glanced upward. Andres was standing on the low roof, on the inner side of the chimney of stone which carried off the kitchen smoke. He turned and looked down at Don Gil.

"The SeÑor Escobeda approaches along the gran' camino, SeÑor."

Silencio set down his cup and ran up the escalera. He walked out to the edge of the roof, and shaded his eyes with his hand.

"Yes, Andres; it is true. And I see that he has some gentlemen with him." He turned and called down to the patio.

"Ask Guillermina if her mistress has had her coffee."

As he faced about a shot rang out. The bullet whistled near his head.

"Go down, SeÑor, for the love of God!" said Andres.

The company of horsemen were riding at a quick pace, and were now within hearing.

Silencio waved his arm defiantly.

"Ah! then it is you, SeÑor Escobeda! I see whom you have with you. Is that you, Pedro Geredo? Is that you, Marcoz Absalon? You two will have something to answer for when I report this outrage at the government town."

Escobeda had ridden near to the enclosure. His head was shaking with rage. His earrings glittered in the morning sun, his bloodshot eyes flashed fire. He raised his rifle and aimed it at Silencio.

"You know what I have come for, SeÑor. Send my niece out to me, and we shall retire at once."

"How dare you take that name upon your lips?" Silencio was livid with rage. Another shot was fired. This time it ploughed its way through Silencio's sleeve.

"Shall I kill him, SeÑor?" Andres brought his escopeta to his shoulder; he aimed directly at Escobeda. "I can kill him without trouble, SeÑor, and avoid further argument. It is as the SeÑor says!"

Silencio looked anxiously seaward. No sign of the Coco!

"Not until I give the word, Andres." And then to Escobeda, "I defy you! I defy you!"

Shots began to fall upon the casa from the guns of Escobeda's impudent followers. Escobeda leaped his horse into the enclosure; his men followed suit. Silencio saw them ride in lawless insolence along the side of the building, and then heard the hollow ring of the horses' hoofs upon the veranda. He ran down the escalera. The mob were battering at the front door with the butt ends of their muskets.

Raquel appeared in the patio, pale and terrified.

"Gil! Gil!" she cried, "they are coming in! They will take me!"

"Coward! Come out and fight," was the cry from the outside.

"I am a coward for you, dear." He seized her wrists. "To the counting-house!" he whispered, "to the counting-house!" As they ran she asked, "Is there any sign of the Coco?"

"None," answered Silencio; "but we could not reach her now."

Together they flew through the hallways, across the chambers, where the blows were sounding loud upon the wooden wall of the house, upon the shutters, and the doors. They ran down the far passage and reached the counting-house door. Silencio stumbled over something near the sill.

"Ah! your bag," he said. "I told Guillermina to set it there."

He opened the door with the key held ready, and together they entered. Silencio tore the rug from the middle of the room, and disclosed to Raquel's amazed eyes a door sunken in the floor. He raised it by its heavy ring. A cold blast of air flowed upward into the warm interior. Raquel had thought the room cool before; now she shivered as if with a chill. Silencio pushed her gently toward the opening. "Go down," he said.

Raquel gazed downward at the black depths.

"I cannot go alone, Gil." She shuddered.

"Turn round, dear Heart; put your feet on the rungs of the ladder, so! Ah! what was that?" Silencio glanced anxiously toward the open doorway. A heavy cracking of the stout house-door showed to what lengths Escobeda and his followers were prepared to venture.

"Go, go! At the bottom is a lantern; light it if you can, while I close the trap-door."

Raquel shrank at the mouth of this black opening, which seemed to yawn for them. The damp smell of mould, the cold, the gloom, were sudden and dreadful reminders of the tomb which this might become. She imagined it a charnel house. She dreaded to descend for fear that she should place her feet upon a corpse, or lay her fingers on the fleshless bones of a skeleton.

"Courage, my Heart! Courage! Go down! Do not delay."

At the kindness of his tone, Raquel, taking courage, began to descend. Terrible thoughts filled her mind. What if Escobeda and his men should discover their retreat, and cut off escape at their destination? What that destination was she knew not. Her eyes tried vainly to pierce the mysterious gloom. It was as if she looked into the blackness of a cavern. She turned and gazed for a moment back into the homelike interior which she was leaving, perhaps for all time. The loud blows upon the house-door were the accompaniment of her terrified thoughts.

Raquel descended nervously, her trembling limbs almost refusing to support her. She reached the bottom of the ladder, and by the aid of the dim light from above, she found the lantern and the matches, which Silencio's thoughtful premonition had placed there, ready for her coming. As she lighted the lantern she heard a terrific crash.

Silencio, with a last glance at the open door of the counting-house, which he had forgotten to close, now lowered the trap-door, and joined Raquel in the dark passage. He stood and listened for a moment. He heard a footstep on the floor above, and taking Raquel's hand in his, together they sped along the path which he hoped would lead her to safety.

"Oh, child!" he said, in sharp, panting words, as they breathlessly pursued the obscure way, "for the first time I have given you proof of my love."

Raquel turned to look at him. She saw his dark face revealed fitfully by the flashes of the lantern swinging from his hand.

"Here am I flying from that villain, when I ache to seize him by the throat and choke the very breath of life out of him. Here am I running away, running away!—do you hear me, Raquel?—while they, behind there, are calling me coward. But should he take you—"

Raquel stumbled and almost fell at these dreadful words.

"Gil, Gil, dearest! do not speak of it; perhaps he is coming even now behind us."

At the dreadful suspicion she fell against the wall, dragging him with her. She clung to him in terror, impeding his progress.

"This is not the time to give way, Raquel." Silencio spoke sternly. "Call all your will to your aid now. Run ahead of me, while I stand a moment here."

Raquel gathered all her resolution, and without further question fled again upon her way. Silencio waited a moment, facing the steps which they had just descended, and listened intently. But all that he heard was the sound of Raquel's flying feet. When he was convinced that no one was following them, he turned again and ran quickly after Raquel. He easily gained upon her.

"I hear nothing, Raquel. Do not be so frightened."

At these words the changeable child again regained confidence.

"You have heard of a man building better than he knew," he said. He waved the lantern toward the sides of the tunnel. "There were wild tales of smuggling in the old days—"

The colour had returned to Raquel's cheek. She laughed a little as she asked:

"Did your grandfather smuggle, Gil?"

"He was no better and no worse than other men; who knows what—we will talk later of that. Come!"

He took her hand in his, and again together they fled along the passage. As no sound of pursuing feet came to their ears, confidence began to return. They were like two children running a race. Silencio laughed aloud, and as they got further from the entrance to the passage he whistled, he sang, he shouted! The sound of his laughter chilled the heart of Raquel with fear.

"Gil," she pleaded, "they will hear you. They will know where we have gone." She laid her fingers on his lips as they ran, and he playfully bit them, as he had seen her close her teeth upon El Rey's.

The passage was a long one. Raquel thought that it would never end.

"Have we come more than two miles, Gil?" she asked.

Raquel was not used to breathless flights in the dark. Silencio laughed.

"Poor little girl! Does it seem so long, then? When we have reached the further end we shall have come just three hundred feet."

At last, at last! the further door was reached. Silencio unlocked it and pushed it open. This was rendered somewhat difficult by the sand which had been blown about the entrance since last he had brushed it away. A little patient work, and the two squeezed themselves through the narrow opening.

"Hark! I hear footsteps," whispered Raquel, her face pale with renewed terror.

Silencio stood still and listened.

"You are right," he said; "they are behind us. Take the lantern and hold it for me close to the keyhole." He began pushing the door into place.

She took the light from him and held it as he directed.

"Hold it steady, child. Steady!—Do not tremble so! I must see! I must! steady!"

Raquel's hand shook as if with a palsy.

The footsteps came nearer. To her they sounded from out the darkness like the approach of death.

"Hasten!" she whispered, "hasten!" She held the lantern against the frame of the solid door and pressed her shoulder against it, that her nervousness should not agitate the flame, whispering "Hasten!" the while to Silencio, whose trembling fingers almost refused to do this most necessary work. At last, with a bang and a sharp twist of the key, the heavy door was closed and locked.

"Do you see an iron bar anywhere, Raquel, in the bushes there on the left?"

She ran to the side of the tunnel, which still arched above them here. Silencio was close to her, and at once laid his hand upon the strong piece of metal. He sprang back to the door, and slipped the bar into the rust-worn but still faithful hasps.

Then he turned, seized her hand again, and led her hurriedly along between the high banks. It was still dark where they stood, so overgrown was the deep cut, but Silencio knew the way. He took the lantern from Raquel's hand, extinguished it, and set it upon the ground. "We shall need this no more," he said.

The trees and vines growing from the embankment, which nearly closed overhead, were interwoven like a green basket-work, and almost shut out the daylight. Silencio took Raquel's hand in his and led her along the narrow path. The light became stronger with every step.

Suddenly Raquel stopped short.

"What was that, Gil?"

"What, dearest?"

"That! Do you not hear it? It sounds like a knocking behind us."

Silencio stood still for a moment, listening to the sounds.

"Yes," he said at last, "I do hear it. It is some of those villains pursuing us. Hasten, Raquel. When they find the door is closed, they will return to the casa to cut off our retreat."

Raquel found time to say:

"And the poor servants left behind, will they—"

"They are safe, child. You are the quarry they seek. Escobeda does not exchange shots to no purpose."

A few more steps, and Silencio parted the thicket ahead. Raquel passed through in obedience to his commanding nod, and emerged into the blinding glare of a tropical morning. Beneath her feet was the hot, fine sand of the seashore. A few yards away a small boat was resting, her stern just washed by the ripples. Raquel turned and looked backward. The mass of trees and vines hid the bank from view, the bank in its turn concealed the casa. As she stood thus she heard again a slow knocking, but much fainter than before. It was like the distant sound of heavy blows.

"Thank God! they are knocking still," said Silencio. "Run to the boat, child, quickly."

Raquel shrank with fear.

"They will see me from the house," she said.

"You cannot see the beach from the casa; have you forgotten? Run, run! For the boat! the boat!"

Obeying him, she sped across the sand to the little skiff.

"The middle seat!" he cried.

He followed her as swiftly, and with all his strength pushed the light weight out from the shore, springing in as the bow parted with the beach. The thrust outward brought them within sight of the house. For a moment they were not discovered, and he had shipped the oars and was rowing rapidly toward the open sea before they were seen.

It required a moment for the miscreants to appreciate the fact that the two whom they had thought hidden in the house had escaped in some unknown way. Then a cry of rage went up from many throats, and one man raised his rifle to his shoulder, but the peon next him threw up the muzzle, and the shot flew harmless in the air.

It is one thing to fire at the bidding of a master, on whose shoulders will rest all the blame, and quite another to aim deliberately at a person who is quite within his rights—you peon, he gran' SeÑor. Escobeda was nowhere to be seen. There was no one to give an order, to take responsibility. The force was demoralized. The men formed in a small group, and watched the little skiff as it shot out to sea, impelled by the powerful arm and will of Silencio. As he rowed Silencio strained his eyes northward, and perceived what was not as yet visible from the shore. He saw the Coco just rounding the further point—distant, it is true, but safety for Raquel lay in her black and shining hull.

When old Guillermina saw Don Gil and the SeÑora retreat from the patio and cross the large chamber, she knew at once their errand. Had she not lived here since the days of the old Don Oviedo? What tales could she not have told of the secret passage to the sea! But her lips were sealed. Pride of family, the family of her master, was the padlock which kept them silent. How many lips have been glued loyally together for that same reason!

As Guillermina crossed the large chamber she heard the blows raining upon the outer shutters and the large door. She heard Escobeda's voice calling, "Open! open!" as he pounded the stout planking with the butt end of his rifle. The firing had ceased. Even had it not, Guillermina knew well that the shots were not aimed at her. She had withstood a siege in the old Don Oviedo's time, and again in the time of the old Don Gil, and from the moment that Silencio had brought his young wife home she had expected a third raid upon the casa.

Guillermina walked in a leisurely manner. She passed through the intervening passages, and found the counting-house door open. This she had hardly expected. She joyously entered the room and closed the door. Then her native lassitude gave way to a haste to which her unaccustomed members almost refused their service. She quickly drew the rug over the sunken trap-door, smoothed the edges, and rearranged the room, so that it appeared as if it had not lately been entered. It was her step overhead which Don Gil and Raquel had heard at first, and which had caused them so much uneasiness.

As Guillermina turned to leave the room, she heard a crash. Escobeda, having failed to break in the great entrance door, had, with the aid of some of his men, pried off a shutter. The band came pouring into the house and ran through all the rooms, seeking for the flown birds. As Guillermina opened the door of the counting-house to come out, key in hand, she met Escobeda upon the threshold. His face was livid. He held his machete over his head as if to strike.

"So this is their hiding-place," he screamed in her ear.

He rushed past her, and entered the counting-house. Its quiet seclusion and peaceful appearance filled him with astonishment, and caused him to stop short. But he was not deceived for long. He tore away the green hangings, hoping to find a door. Instead a wall of iron stared him in the face. He ran all round the room, feeling of the panels or plates, but nowhere could he discover the opening which he sought. Each plate was firmly screwed and riveted to its neighbour. He turned and shook his fist in Guillermina's face.

"You shall tell me where they have gone," he howled, in fury, and then poured forth a volley of oaths and obscenities, such as no one but a Spaniard could have combined in so few sentences.

Guillermina faced him, her hands on her fat hips.

"The SeÑor should not excite himself. It is bad to excite oneself. There was the woodcutter over at La Floresta—"

"To hell with the woodcutter! Where is that Truhan?" Then Escobeda began to curse Guillermina. He cursed her until he foamed at the mouth, his gold earrings shaking in his ears, his eyes bloodshot, his lips sending flecks of foam upon her gown. He cursed her father and her mother, her grandfather and her grandmother, her great-grandfather and great-grandmother, which was quite a superfluity in the way of cursing, as Guillermina had no proof positive that she had ever possessed more than one parent. He cursed her brothers and sisters, her aunts, her uncles, her cousins, her nephews and nieces.

"The SeÑor wastes some very good breath," remarked Guillermina in a perfectly imperturbable manner. "I have none of those people."

Escobeda turned on her in renewed frenzy. The vile words rolled out of his mouth like a stream over high rocks. He took a fresh breath and cursed anew. As he had begun with her ancestors, so he continued with her descendants, the children whom she had borne, and those whom she was likely to bear.

"The good God save us!" ejaculated old Guillermina. And still Escobeda cursed on, his fury now falling upon her relationships in all their ramifications, and in all their branches.

"Ay de mi! The gracious SeÑor wastes his time. If the gracious SeÑor should rest a little, he could start with a fresh breath."

As Guillermina spoke, she rearranged the curtain folds, smoothed and shook the silken pillows, and laid them straight and in place. She kept her station as near the middle of the sunken door as possible.

Again he thundered at her the question as to where the fugitives had found refuge. Guillermina, brave outwardly, was trembling inwardly for the safety of her beloved Don Gil. The young SeÑora was all very well, she might grow to care for her in time, but her little Gil, whom she had taken from the doctor's arms, whom she had nursed on her knee with her own little Antonio, who lay under the trees on the hillside yonder—she must gain time.

"Does not the SeÑor know that the SeÑor Don Gil Silencio-y-Estrada and the little SeÑora have gone to heaven?"

Escobeda stopped short in his vituperation.

"Dead? He was afraid, then! He killed her." Escobeda laughed cruelly. "If I have lost her, so has he."

"Ay, ay, they have flown away, flown to heaven, the SeÑores. The good God cares for his own. I wonder now who cares for the SeÑor Escobeda!"

With the scream of a wild beast he flew at her, and she, fearing positive injury, sprang aside. Escobeda's spur caught in the rug and tore it from its place on the floor. He stumbled and fell, pulling the green and white carpet after him. Concealment was no longer possible; the trap-door was laid bare. With a fiendish cry of delight he flew at the ring in the sunken door.

"To hell! to hell!" he shouted. "That is where they have gone; not to heaven, but to hell."

Escobeda had heard rumours all his life of the secret passage to the sea—the passage which had never been located by the curious. At last the mystery was solved. He raised the door, and without a word to Guillermina, plunged into the black depths. The absence of a light was lost sight of by him in his unreasoning rage. Almost before his fingers had disappeared from view, Guillermina had lowered the trap-door into its place in the most gentle manner.

If one is performing a good action, it is best to make as little noise about it as possible. As she fitted the great iron bar across the opening, there came a knocking upon the under side of the iron square.

"Give me a light! A light! you she-devil! A light, I say."

Guillermina went softly to the door of the counting-house and closed it to prevent intrusion. She could hear Escobeda's followers running riotously all over the casa. Her time would be short, that she knew. She knelt down on the floor and put her lips close to the crack in the trap-door.

"And he would curse my mother, would the SeÑor! And my little Antonio, who lies buried on the hill yonder."

"A light!" he shouted, "a light! she-devil, a light, I say!"

"May the SeÑor see no light till he sees the flames of hell," answered Guillermina. "The SeÑor must pardon me, but that is my respectful wish."

She smoothed the innocent-looking carpet in place, replaced the chairs, and went out, locking the door after her.

"Let us hope," said she quietly, "that my muchacho has barred the door at the further end of the passage." Looking for a wide crack, she found it, and dropped the key through it.

This is why the disused passage is always called Escobeda's Walk.

Sometimes, when Don Gil and the little SeÑora sit and sip the straw-coloured tea at five o'clock of an afternoon, the teapot, grown more battered and dingy, the lid fitting less securely than of yore, the SeÑora sets down her cup, and taking little Raquel upon her knee, holds her close to her heart, and says:

"Do you hear that knocking, Gil? There is certainly a rapping on the counting-house floor."

"I hear nothing," answers Silencio, as he gives a large lump of sugar to the grandson of the brown lizard. And for that matter, there is an ancient proverb which says that "None are so deaf as those who will not hear."