A yell more loud and terrible than any that had gone before rose
from the garden below, and there was the sound of iron beating
against iron, and cries of rage and execration from a great
multitude.

``I will not go!'' the Spanish woman cried, suddenly. ``I will
not leave Alvarez to that mob. If they want to kill me, let them
kill me.'' She threw the bag that held her jewels on the bed,
and pushing open the window stepped out upon the balcony. She
was conspicuous in her black dress against the yellow stucco of
the wall, and in an instant the mob saw her and a mad shout of
exultation and anger rose from the mass that beat and crushed
itself against the high iron railings of the garden. Hope caught
the woman by the skirt and dragged her back. ``You are mad,''
she said. ``What good can you do your husband here? Save
yourself and he will come to you when he can. There is
nothing you can do for him now; you cannot give your life for
him. You are wasting it, and you are risking the lives of the
men who are waiting for us below. Come, I tell you.''

MacWilliams left Clay waiting beside the diligence and ran from
the stable through the empty house and down the marble stairs to
the garden without meeting any one on his way. He saw Stuart
helping and directing his men to barricade the gates with iron
urns and garden benches and sentry-boxes. Outside the mob were
firing at him with their revolvers, and calling him foul names,
but Stuart did not seem to hear them. He greeted MacWilliams
with a cheerful little laugh. ``Well,'' he asked, ``is she
ready?''