returned, nor had Don Mateo made his attack, nor had I news of any one. I do not understand how I could remain shut up all those hours, without breaking out and letting myself be killed.
While thus chafing, and more often than ever peeping from the window to catch a distant glimpse of the old woman, a choked and panting voice, at my shoulder, cried:
“They are coming.”
It was ‘Uncle Lucas,’ who seemed in that one day to exhaust all his remaining life’s force. He seated himself on Minga’s bed, with his mouth open, his chest puffing like a blacksmith’s bellows, his head nodding in time to his heavy breathing.
In spite of his breathlessness, I made him speak, although his words were broken by his gasps for air. Don Mateo and his force were organizing at half a league’s distance. Uncle Lucas had told the Colonel all that the Sindico1 had said and had returned with the order to unite as many men as possible from our quarter of the town, in order to impede and disconcert Coderas’s force, when it should return to town, as probably it would only skirmish in the open field. Just as he arrived at the creek, Uncle Lucas saw five men on horseback, the advance guard of Coderas, descend from the terrace.
In fact, while he was speaking we heard the noise of horses running through the street and the clank of swords against the stirrups. Almost at the same moment the door opened and Minga’s mother burst into the room, her face pale, her eyes flashing fire.
“A little more and those dogs had had me!” she cried angrily and hurled forth a tirade which I cannot repeat.
“What is the matter?” I asked, agitated.