He therefore viewed the great ragged pile of ancient masonry, over which the banner of Castile and Aragon flapped in the night breeze, with something of the gladiator's spirit when he was wont to face a tiger in the arena--the immensity of the task aroused every atom of determination, quickened his blood and caused him to feel an eagerness to open hostilities. All seemed quiet. Not far away lay the great barracks of the Spanish soldiers, and he could even hear them call out at times. This lent additional piquancy to the game--when it became necessary to snatch a condemned prisoner from the very heart of the Spanish camp, the glory attending success would be all the greater. Not that Roderic sought additional sources of danger--he would have been satisfied with much less, since his one purpose was to save Leon and win his sister. A clock in the city boomed the hour. "I am on time--now to see if my fellow laborer has reached the rendezvous," Roderic muttered. At one point the shadow of the corner tower fell athwart the white road and here he turned. A little birdlike trill greeted his ears--it might have proceeded from some feathered songster ensconced among the leafy vines that covered the rugged wall, and which had been disturbed by his stealthy advance. The American seemed to believe otherwise, for he quickly imitated the sound. Whereupon there appeared a figure from behind a buttressed base of the tower wall, a figure that approached him at first eagerly, then coyly. Roderic took several steps forward to meet the half unwilling advance of the other. "Senora, is it you?" he whispered, eagerly. "Si, senor," came the low reply from the figure dressed in masculine garments. "Good. We are both on time. The night favors us as much as we could hope for. Let us then go to work without delay." "Heaven bless you, senor--" "Not a word in that line--it is useless, and dangerous as well, since sentries are on the ramparts and they have keen ears. I feared you might not come, for the danger would appall many." "Ah! senor, what is danger to me--what would I not risk if by so doing I could save _his_ life, my beloved Leon? Fire and blood could not hold me in check if _he_ called. My life is his alone, for without him all else would be dead. That is the love a Spanish woman gives, senor. Do not forget it when you think of Georgia." Roderic was thrilled by her words, so intense so full of devotion--yes, few nationalities can love with the fire and enthusiasm shown by Spain's sons and daughters, and if their affection does not always stand the test of time, lay it to the burning zeal that eats up the heart. He remembered that he too was beloved by just such an impulsive, beautiful girl, who at this hour was doubtless wrestling with the deep wounds wrought by jealousy's fingers; and the recollection gave him both ecstasy and keen pain.