CHAPTER XI.
OUT OF THE LION'S MOUTH.
As the short sunset of the tropics had now merged into complete darkness, we crossed the _patio_ without being noticed; but near the gateway several soldiers of the guard were seated round a small table, playing at cards by the light of a flickering lamp.
"Hello! Who goes there ?" said one of them, looking up.

"Pablo, the turnkey, and a friar! Won't you take a hand, Pablo?
You won a _real_ from me last night; I want my revenge." "He is going with me as far as the plaza.

It is dark, and I am very near-sighted," put in Carmen, with ready presence of mind.

"He will be back in a few minutes, and then he will give you your revenge, won't you, Pablo ?" "_Si, padre, con mucho gusto_," I answered, mimicking the deep guttural of the zambo.
"Good! I shall expect you in a few minutes," said the soldier.

"_Buene noche, padre!_" "Good-night, my son." "Now for the sentry," murmured Carmen; "luckily we have the password, otherwise it might be awkward." "We must try to slip past him." But it was not to be.