He stayed not for more; but turning upon his heel, made direct for the door. Not to reach it, however, without interruption. In his hurry to be gone, he stumbled over the legs of the Texan, that stretched across the cell, nearly from side to side. Angered by the obstruction, he gave them a spiteful kick, then passed on outward. By good fortune fast and far out of reach, otherwise Cris Rock, who sprang to his feet, and on for the entrance, jerking the dwarf after, would in all probability there and then have taken his life. As it was, the gaol-governor, seeing the danger, suddenly shut the cloister door, so saving it. "Jest as I've been tellin' ye all along, Cap," coolly remarked Rock, as the slammed door ceased to make resonance; "we shed ha' hanged the skunk, or shot him thar an' then on the Shell Road. 'Twar a foolish thing lettin' him out o' that ditch when I had him in it. Darn the luck o' my not drownin' him outright! We're like to sup sorrow for it now." CHAPTER THIRTEEN. THE EXILES RETURNED. Of the _dramatis personae_ of our tale, already known to our reader, Carlos Santander, Florence Kearney, and Cris Rock were not the only ones who had shifted residence from the City of New Orleans to that of Mexico. Within the months intervening two others had done the same-- these Don Ignacio Valverde and his daughter. The banished exile had not only returned to his native land, but his property had been restored to him, and himself reinstated in the favour of the Dictator. More still, he had now higher rank than ever before; since he had been appointed a Minister of State. For the first upward step on this progressive ladder of prosperity Don Ignacio owed all to Carlos Santander. The handsome _aide-de-camp_, having the ear of his chief, found little difficulty in getting the ban removed, with leave given the refugee--criminal only in a political sense--to come back to his country.