Though fully, fervently appreciating the generous offer, Florence Kearney was not the man to avail himself of it. "Thanks, brave comrade!" he said, with warmth, detaching his hand from the Texan's grasp, and thrusting it into the helmet. "What's left of your life yet is worth more than all mine; and my luck may be good as yours--we'll see." It proved so, a murmur of satisfaction running along the line as they saw his hand drawn out with a white bear between the fingers. "Thanks to the Almighty!" joyously shouted the Texan, as he made out the colour. "Both o' us clar o' that scrape, by Job! An' as there ain't no need for me dyin' yet, I mean to live it out, an' git well agin." And get well he did, despite the long after march, with all its exposures and fatigues; his health and strength being completely restored as he stepped over the threshold, entering within his prison-cell in the city of Mexico. CHAPTER TEN. THE ACORDADA. One of the most noted "lions" in the City of Mexico is the prison called La Acordada. Few strangers visit the Mexican capital without also paying a visit to this celebrated penal establishment, and few who enter its gloomy portals issue forth from them without having seen something to sadden the heart, and be ever afterwards remembered with repugnance and pain. There is, perhaps, no prison in the universal world where one may witness so many, and such a variety of criminals; since there is no crime known to the calendar that has not been committed by some one of the gaol-birds of the Acordada. Its cells, or cloisters--for the building was once a monastery--are usually well filled with thieves, forgers, ravishers, highway robbers, and a fair admixture of murderers; none appearing cowed or repentant, but boldly brazening it out, and even boasting of their deeds of villainy, fierce and strong as when doing them, save the disabled ones, who suffer from wounds or some loathsome disease. Nor is all their criminal action suspended inside the prison walls. It is carried on within their cells, and still more frequently in the courtyards of the ancient convent, where they are permitted to meet in common and spend a considerable portion of their time. Here they may be seen in groups, most of them ragged and greasy, squatted on the flags, card-playing--and cheating when they can--now and then quarrelling, but always talking loud and cursing. Into the midst of this mass of degraded humanity were thrust two of the unfortunate prisoners, taken at the battle of Mier--the two with whom our tale has alone to do. For reasons that need not be told, most of the captives were excepted from this degradation; the main body of them being carried on through the city to the pleasant suburban village of Tacubaya. But Florence Kearney and Cris Rock were not among the exceptions; both having been consigned to the horrid pandemonium we have painted.