Now he was standing at the bars of his own cell. Something was pulling him back to the bench, but another force more rigidly held his right cheek-bone pressed between two wooden bars. Only the far corner of the wall could be seen, even so--just one man standing at the blank wall--face of a youth, looking away, head uncovered and looking away.... And now from the left, where Elbert’s eye could not reach, came an old man’s voice raised in wailing. It was like the voice of an old beggar at some city gate--crying out softly against what he saw, not desperately, a low mourning; and all the time the phonograph-voice gave commands--until a shock of volley-fire and a few ragged shots. The hands of the youth lifted, as if he were treading water, as if he were pushing something from him, as if he were trying not to fall--an altogether different, divided look--the face of one being stoned, yet exalted, too--all this in the succession of shots, and Elbert had drawn back by this time, rubbing his cheek which was bruised from the wood, and there was something in him older, far older and quieter, than he had ever known before; something in him that could not laugh yet, but would sometime, something that knew that the corn-dust maiden would be waiting in that far doorway. XX THE TWO WHO HAD NOT HEARD DAY was actually breaking clearer. Mamie was dancing at her tether across the patio. The recent sound of guns had not been to her liking, nor certain odors which now moved in the air. The firing squad had gathered at the cistern. The men were drinking water and lighting cigarettes, talking jerkily with laughter. The sudden surge of pity which Elbert knew was for them, not for the others.... That was his day of quiet waiting. The sun rose and steadily shone; such was a fact of continual amazement. The hours didn’t drag, because his thoughts were out of himself so much of the time. He would finally feel an ache in his body and rouse from the deeps of contemplation to find that he had sat in one position for an hour or more. Queerly enough, he couldn’t take his own predicament so seriously as last night. Of course, he wouldn’t give up. He would see his Sonora job through, but for the time, practically all sense of personal danger had eased away. Cordano’s little infantry garrison was merely holding him until his case was straightened out. Perhaps the officer in charge had telegraphed North to verify his papers. Sooner or later he would be out of this, and if they sent him back to the States, he would return when possible and start in all over again. Noon, afternoon. Captain Ramon appeared, commiserated with him, but announced that four more of Monte Vallejo’s men were being brought in. Elbert saw the prisoners enter at nightfall, and once more, for an hour or two in the evening, the prison cells were unlocked, and after that the silence again, the lone American’s last thought that there would be another death party at dawn....