Suddenly he held up his hand so as to display the ring. "Who gave you this?" he asked, carelessly. "Mr. Rivers," said Talbot, simply. "It was our engagement ring." Brooke gave his usual short laugh, and subsided into silence. CHAPTER XXIV. IN WHICH BROOKE AND TALBOT STAND FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH. This was to be to Brooke his last day in life. The thought of this was ever present to both of them. The band would probably return during the night, and in the morning the last scene would be enacted. In the few days in which these two had known each other they had been compelled to undergo great variations of feeling, and had come to learn each other's inmost nature more thoroughly and intimately by far than could have occurred after years of ordinary social intercourse. Together they had faced danger and death; together they had endured hope and fear, hunger and weariness, sorrow and despair. The feelings of each had been stirred to the uttermost depth. Strong natures were they, both of them; and they both were capable of self-control, and they each knew how to wear an aspect of calmness while all the time the soul within was in a tumult of terror or distress. This night was to be the last on earth to one of them, perhaps to both. So they said but little. They could but sit in silence, and think, and feel, and suffer. At midnight there was a wild clamor outside. The band had returned. The prisoners went to the window, and there, standing side by side, they looked out. Brooke thought that his hour might even now be at hand, and the same fear occurred to Talbot. Neither spoke. So for a long time they stood watching, listening, until at last the sounds died away, all movement ceased, and all was still. The men had gone to rest, and they now knew that there would be a respite until morning. They stood looking out into the night. If a thought of flight had ever occurred to either of them, they could now see that such a thing was impossible. For they were environed with guards; and in the room below and on the grass outside the followers of Lopez lay between them and liberty. "Brooke," said Talbot, "if you were now alone I know very well what you would do." "What?" "You would draw your revolver, jump down, burst through the midst of these men, and escape. Why not do so now?" Brooke gave a short laugh. "Do? Leave me! Fly! They cannot blame me if you fight your way through them. Better to die fighting than be shot down helplessly." "If I did so, they'd take out their vengeance on you." "They would not." "They would." "Then you stay for me!" "Yes." Talbot drew a long breath. "You are bent on dying, Brooke, not to save me, but merely to prevent them from being too hard to me." "They will let you go," said Brooke. "They will be satisfied--when I am gone." Talbot seized his hands in a convulsive grasp.