The hostiles had prepared for another rush, and now they made it, plunging through the smoke and into the church in an effort to exterminate their foes. A concentrated fire met them, as it had several times before. Some fell; others rushed on. Here and there the combat was hand-to-hand. Every foot of the way they found disputed by a determined man. They were driven out again, leaving dead and wounded behind them; and those inside placed another man against the wall and bound up more wounds. The smoke was stifling now. Women and children hung around the big water jars, gasping for breath. The faces of the men were grimy, their eyes red. _Comandante_ and ensign rushed from one part of the church to another, alert for possible tricks of the enemy, taking advantage where it was possible. Frailes were building a barricade in a corner, preparing for the forlorn hope. The Indians in the plaza seemed to be quiet for a moment, and then their shrieks were redoubled, and another assault was launched. Hoarse voices of chiefs shouted orders, a fusillade of shots tore through the doorway, and for a moment no man could live at the windows. Then came the rush! More than one man felt that it was the last. The ranks of the defenders had been cut down until a mere handful remained. The frailes hurried women and children behind the barricade in the corner, and the soldiers retreated foot by foot, resisting stubbornly but in vain. At close quarters shots were exchanged, blades rang, fingers tore at throats. “Back--back! The barricade!” the _comandante_ ordered. Back they fell, step by step, still resisting, carrying wounded with them. Behind them the frailes and women were loading muskets and pistols, for the soldiers had no time to load now. One by one they gained the shelter of the barricade, until all were behind it, and then the hostiles faced a volley that drove them raging back toward the doorway. But they were inside the church--and the end was near. * * * * * In the mortuary chapel the caballero had been listening at the door, and when he turned to face the _señorita_ his face held an expression she never had seen in it before. “What is it?” she asked. “The hostiles are inside--they have driven the defenders to a corner,” he replied. “Then----?” “Everything may end for us here. They will be before us and behind us. Either they will enter, or else fire the building. It is best to tell you the truth, _señorita_; we are in a trap.” “If--they enter--you will remember your promise?” He held out his arms, and she slipped into them, and for a moment their lips met. He was almost sobbing when he answered. “I’ll remember.” “You’ll not let them take me alive?” “Never that, _señorita_! I wish we might face a different future. I am just beginning to find life worth the living,” he said. “But at least I can die knowing your heart is mine.”