a trap you'll be the first man shot on either side.''

A sentry strolled lazily out into the road dragging his gun after
him by the bayonet, and raised his hand for them to halt. His
captain followed him from the post-house throwing away a
cigarette as he came, and saluted MacWilliams on the box and
bowed to the two riders in the background. In his right hand he
held one of the long iron rods with which the collectors of the
city's taxes were wont to pierce the bundles and packs, and
even the carriage cushions of those who entered the city limits
from the coast, and who might be suspected of smuggling.

``Whose carriage is this, and where is it going?'' he asked.

As the speed of the diligence slackened, Hope put her head out of
the curtains, and as she surveyed the soldier with apparent
surprise, she turned to her brother.

``What does this mean?'' she asked. ``What are we waiting for?''

``We are going to the Hacienda of Senor Palacio,''
MacWilliams said, in answer to the officer. ``The driver thinks
that this is the road, but I say we should have taken the one to
the right.''

``No, this is the road to Senor Palacio's plantation,'' the
officer answered, ``but you cannot leave the city without a pass
signed by General Mendoza. That is the order we received this
morning. Have you such a pass?''