A storm of oaths followed his escape. Then, not content with this vent to their anger, the peons, using such stones and weapons as came to hand, rushed upon the wooden barricade standing between them and their prey, at the same time calling upon the inhabitants of the house to let them in. These Colombian doors, however, are built to withstand a stout siege, and the din might have been indefinitely prolonged had it not come to an abrupt and unexpected conclusion. Three sharp blows upon the door were given from within. Then a clear feminine voice was heard above the uproar. "Stand back, Senores! I will open." There was a dead silence. This time it was the great door itself that swung slowly open. There was no sign of the escaped Yankee in the wide corridor beyond. In his stead there stood, unattended, unprotected, a woman. She was clad in a long robe of white, her dark hair flowing unconfined down her shoulders. Her bare arms, exquisitely molded, and of a tint that vied with her dress in purity, were crossed upon her breast. There was no fear in her eyes as she faced the abashed men and boys before her. "This is my house, Senores," she said calmly. "What do you want?" Involuntarily the leaders of the mob fell back, awed by the girl's courage and dignity. There was a murmur of voices, ending in a chorus of admiration and homage. "La Reina! La Reina!" they cried. "La Reina de los Indios!" Then the sharp-witted Pedro, resuming command over his ragged troops, stepped forth, waving to the others to keep silence. "It is nothing, Senora," he said, bowing with an awkward grace that played sad pranks with the box of blacking hanging from his neck. "We are patriots of Colombia marching to Panama. We mean no harm to you." Then, turning to the emboladores, he shouted, with his old enthusiasm: "Por la Patria! Por la Patria! Viva la Reina! Baja los Yankees!" The crowd took up the familiar call, and with one of those quick changes of sentiment that sometimes sweeps over such gatherings, fell into a march, cheering the motionless "Reina de los Indios" as they filed past her, and leaving the Calle de los Flores to its accustomed dreams and quiet. VII LA REINA DE LOS INDIOS "Felicita, where is this Senor?" "Ah, Dios mio! safe enough, in the sala. But for thee--nina Sa'pona, how scared I've been! And they called thee queen, thou who art our queen indeed, beautiful, brave one! But thou shouldst not do this--not for so ugly a senor--my beautiful nina!" With the great door closed, and the noise from the peons growing fainter in the distance, the stern dignity of the Indian girl vanished before the simple talk of her old nurse. Queen of the Indians, as the peons called her, this girl might be--although why they called her so they would find it difficult to tell--but for the faithful creature, with her eager caresses and affectionate words, royalty, real or imaginary, scarcely counted.