After directing a rapid glance at the heavy stone hanging over his head and another at Elias and the yellowish individual, Ibarra said to Nor Juan in a somewhat unsteady voice, "Give me the mortar and get me another trowel up there." The youth remained alone.

Elias no longer looked at him, for his eyes were fastened on the hand of the yellowish individual, who, leaning over the trench, was anxiously following the movements of Ibarra.

There was heard the noise of the trowel scraping on the stone in the midst of a feeble murmur among the employees, who were congratulating the alcalde on his speech.
Suddenly a crash was heard.

The pulley tied at the base of the derrick jumped up and after it the windlass, which struck the heavy posts like a battering-ram.

The timbers shook, the fastenings flew apart, and the whole apparatus fell in a second with a frightful crash.