“My God, I thank Thee!” Sergeant Cassara’s great voice was raised in a howl of relief and encouragement. Running feet sounded in the church. The caballero’s heart was pounding at his ribs, and he was trying to beat from his brain the sudden hope he felt for fear it would prove unfounded. Another volley; another chorus of shrieks as from a far distance; more cries of anger, and gladness, and surprise! Then a strong voice that had not been heard before: “At those flames, some of you men! Help the wounded here! Get the women and children out of the smoke! Lieutenant, see that every hostile is run down--we want not one to escape! If we had been a minute later----” Señorita Anita, busy with her prayers and her agony of mind, had not noticed these things. And now the caballero, with a glad cry, ran to her, lifted her bodily from the floor, and covered her face with kisses. “The Governor, beloved!” he cried. “His excellency has come--in time! Oh, beloved--beloved!” Once more the pounding on the door! “Open, in the Governor’s name! We know you are there, Captain Fly-by-Night! There is no escape! Open!” The caballero stood in the centre of the chapel with Anita nestling against his breast, and he spoke in whispers, giving no attention to the summons at the door. “You are safe now, beloved,” he said. “The world has not come to an end, you see. It is pretty much as it was before this revolt. You can be again with your friends, with people of your rank. Is life not good--after all?” “With you it is,” she whispered in reply. “When all was dark you spoke of love to me,” he went on. “There was nothing in the future for you then. But now there is everything in the future. You can face the world again----” “Stained by a relative’s act, caballero?” “Who knows of that? It is believed Rojerio Rocha died a loyal man. You know differently, and your _duenna_, and myself. None ever will open lips to speak of it. None other ever will know, _señorita_. You can hold up your pretty head as before, and live, and be happy. At the rancho the months will dim the memories of this thing. Think, _señorita_! You have no need of me now.” “No need of you?” she asked. “Have you, _señorita_? Things are different now. No longer do you need the worthless caballero like myself. Could you hold up your head if ’twas known Captain Fly-by-Night held your love?” “I could,” she said, “and proudly!” “If the man who boasted had won you----?” “Still, I could!” “Gambler, thief--renegade----?” “The caballero who saved me, and whom I love--none other! And no renegade!” “Yet there were orders to take me, dead or alive. Think you these dead and wounded men will change the Governor’s mind? I swear I had no part in this revolt, _señorita_, but none will think so, except perhaps your charitable self.” They were pounding on the door again, but the caballero gave no reply. “I love you,” she said simply.