"Of course I forgive you," she exclaimed. "Your fear is no greater than my own. I am a woman, and dread this sort of thing. All that gives me courage is the knowledge that death is preferable to dishonour," her voice lost its firmness, "and--and my faith in a man." "You mean in possible rescue?" Her eyes lifted to his face. "Yes, Mr. Cavendish. It may prove all imagination, yet there is one--a real man, I am sure--who must know of my plight before this. If he does, and lives, he will come to me. If we can only defend ourselves long enough there will be rescue." He hesitated, yet something told him this was no time to fear asking all. "Surely you are not married? Of course not; then he----" "Is merely a friend; no, there has been no other word spoken between us, yet," her voice trembling slightly, "there are secrets a woman knows instinctively without speech. I know this man cares--enough to come. Isn't that strange, Mr. Cavendish, when we have only met three times?" "No," he said gallantly, "not to any one who has known you. I believe you might even trust me. Where is this man?" "In Haskell; but please do not ask any more--there! They are coming." A blow struck the outer door, and was repeated, evidently dealt by the butt of a gun; then the two, standing silent and almost breathless within, heard Mendez's voice. There was no mistaking his slow, carefully chosen English. "_Senorita_, and you also, Senor Cavendish," he called his words intended to be conciliatory. "It is of no use that you resist. We are many and armed. If you surrender, and not fight, I pledge you protection." The girl glanced at Cavendish. "You answer him." He stepped closer to the door. "Protection from whom?" he asked briefly. "From my men; I am Pasqual Mendez." "But you propose holding us prisoners? You intend delivering us up to the man Lacy as soon as he arrives?" "Yes," he admitted, "but I hold no animosity--none. The _senorita_ need not fear. I will intercede for you both with the Senor Lacy, and he will listen to what I say. You may trust me, if you unbar the door." "And if we refuse?" "We shall break in, and there will be no promise. I ask you now for the last time." Cavendish turned his head slightly to regard his companion. "What shall I say?" he whispered. "The man lies; he will keep no promise once we are in his power. Besides they have not yet found Cateras. When they do there will be no thought of mercy." "Then we fight it out?" "I shall; I will never give myself into the hands of that creature." "Senor," and Cavendish stepped aside to the protection of the logs, "we will not surrender. That is our answer." "Fools!" he called back, his voice rising harsh above the growling of others. "We will show you. Silva, Felipe, quick now; do what I told you. We will teach these Americano dogs a lesson. No, stand back! Wait until I speak the word."'