A Castle in Spain. James De Mille

but the greater part remained outside. These kept up an incessant jabber; but it was of a discordant character, some talking about getting ready a supper, some about making a fire, some about forage, while at times a word would be dropped which seemed to indicate that they were in pursuit of fugitives. Nothing more definite than this could be learned.

      Brooke, however, had been gradually creeping to one side of the mill, where there was a window, while Talbot followed as noiselessly as possible, until they both were able from their concealment to look out upon the scene below, which was in no way calculated to reassure them. They saw a crowd of men, about a hundred in number, who looked very much to Brooke like the train-stoppers of the day before. Their arms were piled, and they themselves were dispersed about, engaged in various occupations; some eating, some drinking, some smoking, while from them all a confused hubbub arose.

      Half a dozen ill-looking fellows came toward the door of the mill.

      "A fire!" said one. "Let's burn down the old mill. There's wood enough in it."

      "Ay," said another, "wood enough for a hundred fires."

      A shout of applause greeted this proposal, but the hearers above felt their hearts quail with horror. Talbot laid her hand on Brooke's arm. Brooke, to reassure her, took her hand in his and pressed it gently, and felt it cold and tremulous. He drew her nearer to him, and whispered softly in her ear,

      "Don't be alarmed. At the worst, we can give ourselves up. Trust to me."

      Talbot drew a long breath, and made a desperate effort to master her fears; but the scene below grew more and more terrible. The wild shout of approbation which followed the proposal to bum the mill was caught up by one after another, till at last the whole band was filled with that one idea. A dozen men rushed inside, and began to hammer, and tear, and pull at the flooring and other parts of the wood-work, while others busied themselves with preparing splints with which to kindle the fire.

      "Brooke," whispered Talbot, in a tremulous voice—"oh, Brooke, let us go down."

      "Wait—not yet," said Brooke, on whose brow cold drops of perspiration were already standing. "Wait. Let us see what they will do."

      Talbot drew back with a shudder.

      "The mill is of stone," said Brooke. "They can't burn it."

      "But all the inside is of wood," said Talbot—"the floors, the doors, the machinery, the beams."

      Brooke was silent, and watched the preparations outside. These grew more and more menacing. A great pile of wood was soon collected, which grew rapidly to more formidable proportions. If these prisoners hoped for life, they must leave their present hiding-place, and soon, too; for soon—ah, too soon, if that pile were once kindled—the flames would pour in, and burn all the inner wood-work, even if the walls were of stone.

      At this moment a man came hurrying forward and burst in among the crowd.

      "What's the meaning of all this nonsense?" he asked, in a stern voice.

      "Why, we're burning the mill," said one of the most active of the party.

      "Fools!" cried the other, "are you mad? It will attract attention. We shall be seen—perhaps attacked."

      "Pooh!" said the man, impudently, "what of that? That's all the better."

      The other laid his hand upon his sword, and looked as though he was about to use it; but a wild outcry burst forth from all the crowd, and with an impatient gesture he turned away. By his dress, which was the only uniform visible, and also by his bearing, he seemed to be the captain of the band, yet his authority did not seem to receive any very strong recognition. Still, the sight of this uniform was of itself encouraging to Brooke, who now at once decided upon the course which he should adopt. There was no longer time to hesitate. Already the match was struck, the next moment the flame would be touched to the kindling, and the fires would blaze up.

      So Brooke called in a loud voice,

      "Stop! stop! till we come down!"

      At this cry they all looked up in amazement. The match dropped from the hand of the man who held it, and several of the men sprang to their arms.

      "Who goes there?" cried the one who seemed to be the captain.

      "Friends," said Brooke; "we'll come down."

      Then turning to Talbot, he whispered:

      "Now, Talbot, is the time to show the stuff you're made of. Courage, my boy! courage! Remember, Talbot, you're not a girl now—not a weak girl, but you're a boy—and an English boy! Remember that, my lad, for now your life and mine too depend upon you!"

      "Don't fear for me," said Talbot, firmly.

      "Good!" said Brooke. "Now follow me, and be as cool as a clock, even if you feel the muzzle of a pistol against your forehead."

      With these cheerful words Brooke descended and Talbot followed. The ladder had not been removed, for the simple reason that it consisted of slats nailed against two of the principal beams, too solid even for Samson himself to shake. On reaching the lower story they hurried out at once, and the gang stood collected together awaiting them—a grim and grisly throng. Among them, the man whom Brooke had taken for their captain was now their spokesman.

      "Who are you?" he asked, rudely, after a hasty glance at each.

      Brooke could not now adopt the tone which had been so effective in the morning, for his gown was off, and he could no longer be the Curé of Santa Cruz. He kept his coolness, however, and answered in an off-hand manner.

      "Oh, it's all right; we're friends. I'll show you our papers."

      "All right?" said the other, with a laugh. "That's good too!"

      At this all the crowd around laughed jeeringly.

      "I belong to the good cause," said Brooke. "I'm a loyal subject of His Majesty. Viva el Rey!"

      He expected some response to this loyal sentiment, but the actual result was simply appalling. The captain looked at him, and then at Talbot, with a cruel stare.

      "Ah!" said he. "I thought so. Boys," he continued, turning to his men, "we're in luck. We'll get something out of these devils. They're part of the band. They can put us on the track."

      This remark was greeted with a shout of applause.

      "Allow me to inform you, señor," said the captain to the unfortunate Brooke, "that you have made a slight mistake. You are not our friends, but our enemies. We are not Carlists, but Republicans. I am Captain Lopez, of the Fourteenth Regiment, and have been detailed with these brave fellows on a special mission. You are able to give us useful information; but if you refuse to give it you shall both be shot."

      In spite of the terrible mistake which he had made, Brooke kept his coolness and his presence of mind admirably.