There were five of them, strong of heart and brawny of arm. "And there will be more, Padre," added Andres, reading the priest's question in his appraising glance.

Thus was the town divided; and while many clung to the Alcalde, partly through fear of offending the higher ecclesiastical authority, and partly because of imagined benefits to be gained, others, and a goodly number, a.s.sembled at Jose's side, and looked to him to lead them in the crisis which all felt to be at hand. As the days pa.s.sed, the priest's following grew more numerous, until, after the lapse of a week, the town stood fairly divided. Don Jorge announced his intention of remaining in Simiti for the present.

From the night of the meeting in the church excitement ran continuously higher. Business was at length suspended; the fishermen forgot their nets; and the limber tongues of the town gossips steadily increased their clatter. Don Mario's store and _patio_ a.s.sumed the functions of a departmental office. Daily he might be seen laboriously drafting letters of incredible length and wearisome prolixity to acting-Bishop Wenceslas; and nightly he was engaged in long colloquies and whispered conferences with Don Luis and others of his followers and hangers-on.

The government arms had been brought up from Bodega Central and stored in an empty warehouse belonging to Don Felipe Alcozer to await further disposition.

But with the arrival of the arms, and of certain letters which Don Mario received from Cartagena, the old town lost its calm of centuries, not to recover it again for many a dreary day. By the time its peace was finally restored, it had received a blow from which it never recovered. And many a familiar face, too, had disappeared forever from its narrow streets.

Meanwhile, Jose and his followers anxiously awaited the turn of events. It came at length, and in a manner not wholly unexpected. The Alcalde in his voluminous correspondence with Wenceslas had not failed to bring against Jose every charge which his unduly stimulated brain could imagine. But in particular did he dwell upon the priest's malign influence upon Carmen, whose physical beauty and powers of mind were the marvel of Simiti. He hammered upon this with an insistence that could not but at length again attract the thought of the acting-Bishop, who wrote finally to Don Mario, expressing the mildly couched opinion that, now that his attention had been called again to the matter, Carmen should have the benefits of the education and liberal training which a convent would afford.

Don Mario's egotism soared to the sky. The great Bishop was actually being advised by him! _Hombre_! Where would it not end! He would yet remove to a larger town, perhaps Mompox, and, with the support of the great ecclesiastic, stand for election to Congress! He would show the Bishop what mettle he had in him. _Hombre_! And first he would show His Grace how a loyal servant could antic.i.p.ate his master's wishes. He summoned Fernando, and imperiously bade him bring the girl Carmen at once.

But Fernando returned, saying that Rosendo refused to give up the child. Don Mario then ordered Rosendo's arrest. But Fernando found it impossible to execute the commission. Jose and Don Jorge stood with Rosendo, and threatened to deal harshly with the constable should he attempt to take Carmen by force. Fernando then sought to impress upon the Alcalde the danger of arousing public opinion again over the girl.

Don Mario's wrath burst forth like an exploding bomb. He seized his straw hat and his cane, the emblem of his office, and strode to the house of Rosendo. His face grew more deeply purple as he went. At the door of the house he encountered Jose and Don Jorge.

"Don Mario," began Jose, before the Alcalde could get his words shaped, "it is useless. Carmen remains with us. We will defend her with our lives. Be advised, Don Mario, for the consequences of thoughtless action may be incalculable!"

"_Caramba_!" bellowed the irate official, "but, cow-face! do you know that His Grace supports me? That I but execute his orders? _Dios arriba_! if you do not at once deliver to me your paramour--"

He got no further. Rosendo, who had been standing just within the door, suddenly pushed Jose and Don Jorge aside and, stalking out, a tower of flesh, confronted the raging Alcalde. For a moment he gazed down into the pig-eyes of the man. Then, with a quick thrust of his thick arm, he projected his huge fist squarely into Don Mario's bloated face. The Alcalde went down like a shot.

Neither Jose nor Don Jorge, as they rushed in between Rosendo and his fallen adversary, had any adequate idea of the consequences of the old man's precipitate action. As they a.s.sisted the prostrate official to his unsteady feet they knew not that to Rosendo, simple, peace-loving, and great of heart, had fallen the lot to inaugurate hostilities in the terrible anticlerical war which now for four dismal years was to tear Colombia from end to end, and leave her prostrate and exhausted at last, her sons decimated, her farms and industries ruined, and her neck beneath the heavy heel of a military despot at Bogota, whose pliant hand would still be guided by the astute brain of Rome.

By the time the startled Alcalde had been set again upon his feet a considerable concourse had gathered at the scene. Many stood in wide-eyed horror at what had just occurred. Others broke into loud and wild talk. The crowd rapidly grew, and in a few minutes the _plaza_ was full. Supporters of both sides declaimed and gesticulated vehemently. In the heat of the arguments a blow was struck. Then another. The Alcalde, when he found his tongue, shrilly demanded the arrest of Rosendo and his family, including the priest and Don Jorge.

A dozen of his party rushed forward to execute the order. Rosendo had slipped between Jose and Don Jorge and into his house. In a trice he emerged with a great _machete_. The people about him fell back. His eyes blazed like live coals, and his breath seemed to issue from his dilating nostrils like clouds of steam. To approach him meant instant death. Don Jorge crept behind him and, gaining the house, collected the terrified women and held them in readiness for flight. Juan, Lazaro, and a number of others surrounded Jose and faced the angry mult.i.tude.

The strain was broken by the frenzied Alcalde, who rushed toward Rosendo. The old man swung his enormous _machete_ with a swirl that, had it met the official, would have clean decapitated him. But, fortunately, one of the priest's supporters threw out his foot, and the corpulent Alcalde fell heavily over it and bit the dust. Jose threw himself upon Rosendo. The old man staggered with the shock and gave way. The priest turned to the excited crowd. Holding up both hands high above his head, he sent out his voice clear and loud.

"Children! In the name of the Church! In the name of the Christ! The blessed Virgin--"

"What know you of the blessed Virgin, priest of Satan?" shouted a rough follower of the Alcalde.

"Aye!" yelled another. "Writer of foul books! Seducer of young girls!"

Julio Gomez stooped and took up a large piece of shale. He threw it with all his force, just as the priest again strove to make his voice heard above the din. It struck Jose full on the forehead. The jagged stone cut deeply, and the red blood spurted. Jose fell into the arms of Lazaro and was dragged into the house.

Then Rosendo, with a mad yell, plunged wildly into the crowd. A dozen arms sought to hold him, but in vain. Julio saw the terrifying apparition hurtling down upon him. He turned and fled, but not before the great knife had caught him on its point as it swung down and ripped a deep gash the full length of his naked back.

Then the last vestige of reason fled from the mob, and chaos took the reins. Back and forth through the _plaza_, in front of the church where hung the image of the Prince of Peace, the maddened people surged, fighting like demons, raining blows with clubs, fists, and _machetes_, stabbing with their long, wicked knives, hurling sharp stones, gouging, ripping, yelling, shrieking, calling upon Saints and Virgin to curse their enemies and bless their blows. Over the heads of them all towered the mighty frame of Rosendo. Back before his murderous _machete_ fell the terrified combatants. His course among them was that of a cannon ball. Dozens hung upon his arms, his shoulders, or flung themselves about his great legs. His huge body, slippery and reeking, was galvanized into energy incarnate. Sparks seemed to flash from his eyes. His breath turned to livid flame.

Behind him, following in the swath which he cut, his supporters crowded, fought and yelled. Don Mario's forces gave way. They cursed, broke, and fled. Then Don Jorge, a man whose mortal strength was more than common, threw himself upon the steaming, frenzied Rosendo and stopped his mad progress.

"Rosendo--_amigo! Caramba!_ Listen! They are fleeing to the _bodega_ to get the rifles and ammunition! Come--_Dios arriba_! Come!"

Cut, bruised, and dripping blood from a dozen wounds, Rosendo stood for a moment blinking in confusion. A score lay on the ground about him. Whether dead or wounded, he knew not, nor cared. The sight of Don Mario's supporters in full flight fascinated him. He broke into a chuckle. It sounded like the gloating of an imp of Satan. Then the force of Don Jorge's words smote him.

"_Caramba_! They will return with the rifles!" he panted. "What shall we do?"

"Come! We must lose no time!" cried Don Jorge, pulling him toward the house. Those of the priest's other followers who were still whole scattered wildly to their homes and barred their doors. There they searched for knives, _machetes_, razors, any tool or instrument that might be pressed into service as a weapon, and stood guard. One frenzied fellow, the sole possessor of an antiquated shotgun, projected the rusty arm from a hole in the wall of his mud hut and blazed away down the deserted street indiscriminately and without aim.

Within the house Juan and Lazaro were supporting the dazed Jose, while Dona Maria bathed and bound his wound. Carmen stood gazing upon the scene in bewilderment. The precipitousness of the affair had taken her breath away and driven all thought in mad rout from her mind.

"_Amigos_!" panted Don Jorge, "the church--it is the only place now that is even fairly safe! Dona Maria, do you collect all the food in the house! We know not how long we may be prisoners--"

"But--Don Jorge," interrupted Jose feebly, "they will attack us even there! Let us flee--"

"Where, _amigo_? To the Guamoco trail? Caramba! they would shoot us down in cold blood! _Hombre_! There is no place but the church! That will hold some of them back, at any rate! And none of them, if they get crazed with _anisado_! But it is the only place now! Come!"

"_Hombre_!" cried Rosendo, starting for the door, "but do you, Juan and Lazaro, follow me with your _machetes_, and we will drive the cowards from the _bodega_ and get the rifles ourselves!"

"No, _amigo_! Impossible! By this time they have broken open the boxes and loaded the guns. A shot--and it would be all over with you! But in the church--you have a chance there!"

Don Jorge seized his arm and dragged him out of the house and across the deserted _plaza_. Juan and Lazaro helped Dona Maria gather what food and water remained in the house; and together they hurried out and over to the church. Swinging open the heavy wooden doors, they entered and made them fast again. Then they sank upon the benches and strove to realize their situation.

But Don Jorge suddenly sprang to his feet. "The windows!" he cried.

Juan and Lazaro hurried to them and swung the wooden shutters.

"There is no way of holding them!" cried Juan in dismay.

"_Caramba_!" muttered Rosendo, seizing a bench and with one blow of his _machete_ splitting it clean through, "these will make props to hold them!"

It was the work of but a few minutes to place benches across the thick shutters and secure them with others placed diagonally against them and let into the hard dirt floor. The same was done with the doors.

Then the little group huddled together and waited. Jose heard a sob beside him, and a hand clutched his in the gloom. It was Carmen. In the excitement of the hour he had all but forgotten her. Through his present confusion of thought a great fact loomed: as the girl clung to him she was weeping!

A low rumble drifted to them; a confusion of voices, growing louder; and then a sharp report.

"They are coming, Padre," muttered Rosendo. "And some one has tried his rifle!"

A moment later the ruck poured into the _plaza_ and made for Rosendo's house. Don Mario, holding his cane aloft like a sword, was at their head. Raging with disappointment at not finding the fugitives in the house, they threw the furniture and kitchen utensils madly about, punched great holes through the walls, and then rushed pellmell to the parish house next door. A groan escaped Jose as he watched them through a c.h.i.n.k in the shutters. His books and papers! His notes and writings!

But as the howling mob streamed toward the parish house a wrinkled old crone shrilled at them from across the way and pointed toward the church.

"In there, _amigos_!" she screamed. "I saw them enter! Shoot them--they have hurt my Pedro!"

Back like a huge wave the crowd flowed, and up against the church doors. Don Mario, at the head of his valiant followers, held up his hand for silence. Then, planting himself before the main doors of the church, he loudly voiced his authority.

"In the name of the Government at Bogota!" he cried pompously, tapping the doors with his light cane. Then he turned quickly. "Fernando," he called, "run to my house and fetch the drum!"

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Jose smiled at the puppet-show being enacted without.

The Alcalde reiterated his demands with truculent vanity. "Open! In the name of the Government! I am the law!"

Don Jorge groaned aloud. "_Caramba!_ if I but had him in here alone!"

Don Mario waited a few moments. Then, as no response came from within, his anger began to soar. "_Caramba!_" he cried, "but you defy the law?"

Angry mutterings rose from the crowd. Some one suggested burning the building. Another advised battering in the doors. A third intimated that shooting them full of holes were better. This idea, once voiced, spread like an infection. The childish people were eager to try the rifles.