The moonbeam had moved some distance when he opened his eyes and straightened his body with a jerk. The room was nearly dark, and when he thought about it afterwards, he imagined he was only half awake, for his heart beat and he was conscious of an enervating fear. A dark object, indistinct but like a man, stood beside the coffin.

With something of an effort, Kit recovered his self-control as the figure turned and came towards him. It moved with a curious stealthy gait, making no noise, and this was enough for Kit. He had no grounds for distrusting the sailors, and they wore heavy boots. Trying not to change his position, he felt for his automatic pistol. The b.u.t.t caught a fold of his sash and he was forced to bend his elbow in order to get it out. It looked as if he would be too late, and he slipped as the movement dislodged the rubbish on which he sat. Then, as he shrank with an instinctive quiver from the p.r.i.c.k of the knife, the figure swerved and leaped back.

Kit threw up the pistol and pulled the trigger. There was a flash that dazzled his eyes and a little smoke curled up, but when he leaned forward his antagonist had gone. He heard no movement when he sprang to his feet and almost imagined he had been dreaming, until the sailors shouted and their boots rattled on the broken floor. They ran in and when Kit told them what had happened went to the hole in the wall.

The moonlight touched the front of the building and part of the road was bright, but the shadow of the forest had crept across the rest. All was very quiet; there was no sound in the gloom. Then a flake of plaster fell close behind Kit's head and a sharp report rolled across the trees. One of the men shot at a venture and two of his companions ran savagely along the road, until Kit called them back.

"Come in," he said when they returned. "You're a plain mark in the moonlight and can't see the other fellow among the trees."

"Looks as if it was you he wanted," one replied. "Well, I guess we have no use for being left without a boss, and since we don't like our camping ground, you have got to come with us. We'll draw cuts for who's to watch."

Kit went with them. He felt shaken, for the man who had brought down the plaster was obviously a good shot. He imagined it was another who had intended to stab him; in fact, a number of his enemies might be lurking about. He was not, as a rule, vindictive, but the stealthy attack had induced a dangerous mood and he was sorry he had missed the man. It was hard to see why he had done so, but he had, perhaps, been half asleep.

Now, however, he resolved to watch until day broke.

CHAPTER XI

KIT KEEPS HIS PROMISE

It was getting light when the man on watch called Kit, who went to the gap in the wall. Thin mist drifted about the trees and trailed across the road. There was some open ground in front of the building, but behind this the forest loomed in a blurred, shadowy ma.s.s.

"I reckon I saw something move where the fog's on the road," the man remarked.

Kit saw nothing. His eyes were keen, for he had searched the hillsides for sheep, but it looked as if they were not as keen as the sailor's, and standing in the shadow he watched the indicated spot. After a minute or two, a figure came out of the fog and signaled with a lifted hand.

"More of them around!" said the sailor grimly. "There's trouble coming to them if they mean to corral us. Jake's at the side window, and he had to get out of Mobile because he was too handy with his gun. Not often had to pull mine, but I can shoot some."

"Quit talking!" Kit rejoined, and his mouth set firm when the figure vanished.

He thought the rebels meant to surround the building. If so, they were probably numerous, and the rifle shot some hours before justified the supposition. They had first tried to kill him quietly and, finding this impossible, had resolved to seize the party. Well, there was good cover behind the broken walls, his men were a reckless lot, and he meant to fight. He wished the others would begin, for standing, highly-strung, in the dew was nervous work.

The light had got clearer when he noted a movement in a festoon of trailing vines. The wet leaves shook as if somebody were cautiously pulling them back, and Kit stiffened his muscles. It was a comfort to feel his hand was steady, and although he had not used a pistol much he was a good shot with a gun. He thought he could send a bullet through the moving leaves, but wanted his lurking enemy to begin the fight.

A face appeared at an opening and an arm pushed through. The man was coming out and Kit felt his nerves tingle. Then, as the fellow's body followed his arm, the sailor said quietly, "Don't move, boss.

I'll fix him."

Next moment, Kit swung round, for the man who stepped out into the road wore a white uniform. The sailor leaned against the wall to steady his aim, and his tense pose and rigid hand indicated that he was pressing the trigger.

"Hold on!" Kit shouted. "Don't shoot!"

The sailor lowered his pistol and Kit, springing out of the shadow, waved his hat.

"Come forward. We are friends."

The _rural_ turned and called to somebody, and then joining Kit glanced at the sailor's pistol with a dry smile.

"It looks as if I had run some risk. You did not mean to be surprised."

"No," said Kit; "one takes precautions. I came very near being surprised last night."

"So the _Galdareros_ are about? We suspected something like this."

"I suppose it was why you meant to search the _hacienda_. But did you see us?"

The _rural_ indicated a plume of smoke that curled up from behind the ruined wall.

"We saw _that_. When one takes precautions it is prudent to see they are complete."

Kit nodded. There was no use in getting angry; his men were rash and careless, but, to some extent, this was why he had chosen them. They had, no doubt, lighted the fire to cook breakfast.

"Where is your companion?" he asked.

"There are three of us; you will see the others in a few moments. They watch the road farther on. It is usual for us to patrol in twos, but of late some have not returned. A revolution is a bad time for _rurales;_ one pays old reckonings then."

Kit smiled. "I imagine it would have been bad for any _Galdarero_ who had tried to steal away down the road. But I expect you know me?"

"We have orders about you, senor; you see a servant of yours," the _rural_ answered with a bow. "But it might be better if you told us your plans."

After giving him a cigarette, Kit sent the sailor to tell the others and when the _rurales_ came up offered them a share of the breakfast his men had cooked. While they ate he told them what had brought him there and where he was going.

"So the American is dead? I have seen him at the presidio," one remarked.

"Well, senor, it would be prudent to finish your business at Salinas to-night. After that, I do not know. There has been fighting and some of the president's soldiers have been killed in the swamps."

"I must finish the business," Kit replied. "It does not matter what happens afterwards."

The _rural_ nodded. "The American talked like that. Quick and short, but what he said went. However, we will go to Salinas with you when you are ready."

Kit got up and gave his men an order. "I am ready now."

They set off soon afterwards and reached the mission as the light was fading. Two small, mud buildings and a little church stood among some ruins in an opening, and a frail old man met the party at the gate. He took off his hat when the sailors put down the coffin, and then listened to Kit's quiet narrative.

"This poor place is yours; it was a prosperous mission long since," he said. "In this country, men no longer build, but plot and destroy--it is easier than the other. Now we will put the coffin in the church and then I will give you food."

Father Herman drew back an old leather curtain and the smell of incense met Kit as he stood at the door while the sailors went forward with their load. The church was nearly dark, but Kit saw it had some beauty and there were objects that hinted at more prosperous days. At the other end, a ruby lamp glimmered and a wax candle burned with a clear flame before a statue of the Virgin. Kit knew whence the candle came and that Hattie Askew had knelt on the stones, beneath it, praying that her husband might get well. Then he looked at Father Herman, with a doubt in his mind.

The other met his glance and smiled. "The greatest of these is charity,"

he said in Latin, and resumed in fine Castilian: "He was our benefactor, a man who kept his word, and with such a wife I think our faith was his.

It is a gracious sentiment that they should not be parted."

"In a sense," Kit said quietly, "I think they have not been parted yet.

At the last he said, with confidence, he was going to meet his wife."

"Who knows?" said Father Herman. "There is much that is dark; but one felt that his spirit reached out after hers. Well, I knew he would come back; I have long expected him."

He went forward and lighted more candles when the sailors put down the coffin, and the noise their boots made jarred Kit's nerves as they came back. The light spread, touching the bare walls and tawdry decorations about the shrines. It was a poor little church, falling into ruin, and the beauty its pious builders had given it was vanishing. Yet something redeemed it from being commonplace, and Kit felt a strange emotional stirring as his eyes rested on the dim ruby lamp and the rude black coffin. He thought the light of love could not be quenched and knew the tender romance that had burned in the heart of the old Buccaneer. It was with something of an effort he turned away, and followed Father Herman across the corral.