He turned to look, and at that instant the girl drew back her sturdy arm and then brought it forward again with all her vigour.

_Cluk_! She heard the rock sound against her oppressor's head, heard a low moan escape his lips, and saw him sink slowly to the floor at her feet.
The next instant she was beside him, in terror lest she had killed him; but a hurried glance, supplemented by her fingers which reached for his pulse, assured her that she had only stunned her assailant.

Her heart beat less rapidly now, and she again had control of her mental processes.

With deft hands that worked speedily in the darkness she unstrapped from around his waist the belt with its thirty-six cartridges and revolver, then pulled from his pocket the keys, not only to her cell, but, she judged, to others.
The feel of their bronze coldness in her hot hands brought a quick message to her brain; beyond a question of doubt, the missing Cavendish was concealed in one of the dark, dank cells in the immediate vicinage, if not actually in this same passage, then in another one perhaps not greatly distant.

The speculation gave her determination and decision.
Reaching beneath her outer skirt, she jerked loose her white petticoat, and then began tearing it into long strips which she knotted together.
This done, she bound Juan Cateras's hand and foot, and, with some difficulty, turned him over on his face after first thrusting into his half-open mouth a gag, which she had fashioned from stray ends of the providential petticoat.
Then leaping to her feet and strapping the ammunition belt and revolver about her waist, she stole on tiptoe to the doorway and peered out; the silent, cavernous passage was empty.
Lithely, like a young panther, she slipped out of the cell and began making down the passageway to a spot of light which she judged to be its opening.