The Senor so spoken to had no doubt of it either, and would have been grieved to think otherwise, but he was too busy at the moment to say much, and only signified his assent in monosyllables. With head down, and arms in see-sawing motion, he was endeavouring to cut their coupling-chain; the tool he handled being a large file; another of the "something" to be found under the cushions--as found it was! No wonder Don Ruperto's enthusiastic admiration of the providence which had placed it there. Handy with workmen's tools as with warlike weapons, the young Irishman had laid hold of it as soon as they were safe through the _garita_, and was now rasping away with might and main; the other keeping the chain in place. It was not a task to be accomplished without time. The links were thick as a man's finger, and would need no end of filing before they could be parted. Still, there was little likelihood of their being interrupted until it could be done. There was nobody on the road, and only here and there some labourers at work in the adjoining fields, too busy to take note of them, or what they were at. The sight of a passing carriage would be nothing strange, and the horses going at a gallop would but lead to the supposition of its being a party of "jovenes dorados" driving out into the country, who had taken too much wine before starting. But, even though these poor proletarians knew all, there was nothing to be apprehended for any action on their part. Conspiracies and _pronunciamentos_ were not in their line; and the storm of revolution might burst over their heads without their caring what way it went, or even inquiring who was its promoter. So the escaping prisoners took little pains to conceal what they were at. Speed was now more to their purpose than strategy, and they were making their best of it, both to get on along the road, and have their legs free for future action. "We might have passed safely through that gate," said the Mexican, who still continued to do the talking, "even had they known who we were." "Indeed! how?" "You saw that sergeant who saluted us?" "Of course I did, and the grand salute he gave! He couldn't have made it more impressive had it been the Commander-in-Chief of your army, or the Dictator himself who was passing." "And I fancy it was just something of the kind that moved him. Doubtless, the livery of the coachman, which he would know to be that of Don Ignacio Valverde." "You think he got us through?" "Yes. But it wouldn't have done so if he'd known what was up. Though something else might--that is, his knowing _me_." "Oh! he knows you?"