Thank God, it's come at last!"

He gazed up at the Alcalde with a kindly expression of countenance.
There was a slight shuddering movement of his whole frame--Bob was
dead.

The Alcalde remained kneeling for a short time by the side of the
corpse, his lips moving in prayer. At last he rose to his feet.

"God desireth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he may turn
from his wickedness and live," said he, in a low and solemn tone. "I
had those words in my thoughts four years ago, when I cut him down
from the branch of the Patriarch."

"Four years ago!" cried I. "Then you cut him down, and were in time to
save him! Was it he who yesterday brought us the news of the vicinity
of the foe?"

"It was, and much more than that has he done," replied the Alcalde, no
longer striving to conceal the tears that fell from his eyes. "For
four years has he dragged on his wretched existence, weary of the
world, and despised of all men. For four years has he served us,
lived, fought, and spied for us, without honour, reward, hope, or
consolation--without a single hour of tranquillity, or a wish for
aught except death. All this to serve Texas and his countrymen. Who
shall say this man was not a true patriot? God will surely be merciful
to his soul," said the Alcalde after a pause.

"I trust he will," answered I, deeply affected.