So, caballero, you see how it is with us. And now," he added, changing tone and looking his listener earnestly in the face, "I have a question to put to yourself." "What?" asked the Irishman, seeing that he hesitated putting it. "Will you be one of us?" It was now Kearney's turn to hesitate about the answer he ought to make. A proposition fraught with such consequences required consideration. To what would he be committing himself if he consented? And what if he should refuse? Besides, under the circumstances, was he free to refuse? That of itself was a question, a delicate one. He and his comrade, Cris Rock, owed their escape to this strange man, whatever he might be; and to separate from him now, even under full permission, would savour of ingratitude. Still more, after listening to what was further said. For, noting his embarrassment, and deeming it natural enough, the Mexican hastened to relieve him. "If my proposal be not to your liking, Senor Irlandes, say so; and without fear of offence. All the same, you may rest assured of our protection while you remain with us; and I shall do what I can to get you safe out of the country. At all events, I won't send you back to the Acordada gaol, and the tender care of its governor. So you can speak frankly, without reserve. Are you willing to be one of us?" "I am!" was the answer, given without further hesitation. Why should he have either hesitated or said nay? In the heart of a hostile country, an escaped prisoner, his life, as he felt sure, forfeited should he be retaken. Joining Rivas and his Free Lances might be his sole chance of saving it. Even had they been banditti, he could not have done better then. "Yes, Don Ruperto," he added; "if you deem me worthy of belonging to your brotherhood, be it so. I accept your invitation." "And your comrade, Don Cristoforo. Will he be of the same mind, think you?" "Sure to be. I take it I can answer for him. But you shall hear for yourself. Rock!" He called to the Texan, who, not understanding their dialogue, had sauntered apart, chewing away at the Imperador. "Wal, Cap; what's up now?" he asked on rejoining them. "They're no robbers, Cris," said Kearney, speaking freely in their own tongue. "Gled to hear it. I didn't think they war--noways. Nor monks neyther, I guess?" "Nor monks." "What then, Cap?" "The same as yourself. Patriots who have been fighting for their country, and got defeated. That's why they are here--in hiding." "Yes, Cap; I see it all, clar as coon's track on a mud bar. Enemies o' ole Santy, who've got beat it thar last risin'." "Just so. But they expect another rising soon, and wish us to join them. I've agreed, and said so. What say you?"