I trembled in every limb; de Garcia was in the guardhouse! What if he awoke, what if he came out and saw me? More—now I guessed whose voice it was that I knew again; it was that of one of those Tlascalans who had aided in tormenting me. What if he should see my face? He could scarcely fail to know that on which he had left his mark so recently. I was dumb with fear and could say nothing, and had it not been for the wit of Otomie, there my story would have ended. But now she played her part and played it well, plying the man with the coarse raillery of the camp, till at length she put him in a good humour, and he opened the gate, bidding her begone and me with her. Already we had passed the gate when a sudden faintness seized me, and I stumbled and fell, rolling over on to my back as I touched the earth. “Up, friend, up!” said Otomie, with a harsh laugh. “If you must sleep, wait till you find some friendly bush,” and she dragged at me to lift me. The Tlascalan, still laughing, came forward to help her, and between them I gained my feet again, but as I rose, my cap, which fitted me but ill, fell off. He picked it up and gave it to me and our eyes met, my face being somewhat in the shadow. Next instant I was hobbling on, but looking back, I saw the Tlascalan staring after us with a puzzled air, like that of a man who is not sure of the witness of his senses. “He knows me,” I said to Otomie, “and presently when he has found his wits, he will follow us.” “On, on!” answered Otomie; “round yonder corner are aloe bushes where we may hide.” “I am spent, I can no more;” and again I began to fall. Then Otomie caught me as I fell, and of a sudden she put out her strength, and lifting me from the ground, as a mother lifts her child, staggered forward holding me to her breast. For fifty paces or more she carried me thus, love and despair giving her strength, till at last we reached the edge of the aloe plants and there we sank together to the earth. I cast my eyes back over the path which we had travelled. Round the corner came the Tlascalan, a spiked club in his hand, seeking us to solve his doubts. “It is finished,” I gasped; “the man comes.” For answer Otomie drew my sword from its scabbard and hid it in the grass. “Now feign sleep,” she said; “it is our last chance.” I cast my arm over my face and pretended to be asleep. Presently I heard the sound of a man passing through the bushes, and the Tlascalan stood over me. “What would you?” asked Otomie. “Can you not see that he sleeps? Let him sleep.” “I must look on his face first, woman,” he answered, dragging aside my arm. “By the gods, I thought so! This is that Teule whom we dealt with yesterday and who escapes.” “You are mad,” she said laughing. “He has escaped from nowhere, save from a brawl and a drinking bout.” “You lie, woman, or if you do not lie, you know nothing. This man has the secret of Montezuma’s treasure, and is worth a king’s ransom,” and he lifted his club.