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 embodiment of in their eyes but a little while ago. Others withdrew, still with that doubtful turning of the head, that silent movement of fear, the promise of a larger liberty too dim and improbable to tempt them out of their established ways.

Helena felt doubt and fear cloud coldly over her as she sat watching this scene so strange for the courtyard of Don Abrahan Garvanza. There were but two out of the many who came and went, and stood at arms in her sight, that bore the unquestionable stamp of determination—Gabriel, steady and grave; Felipe, a flame in the wind.

These two alone could be relied on if it came to a desperate stand of days against Roberto's harassing forces. The poor fellows who strutted now with their arms would dwindle away into the safety of the bosque if the test of vigilance by night and defense by day should try them. Their kind and nature she knew too well.

"Here is the flag," said Cecilia, "the last stitch done in time."

Helena held it by its corners at arms' length before her, looking at the curious effect of their hasty collaboration. The result was not artistic, rather crudely flamboyant, but it was better than she had expected.

"Call Don Gabriel," she requested, drawing back according to her breeding and the traditions of her caste from so forward a thing as hailing a man from the door.

Henderson hurried to her, appearing at the