Ned needed no urging.  He drew the pistol and held it ready for instant use.  What, in truth, was on the other side of the door?  His whole fate and that of his comrade might depend upon the revelation.  Obed pushed gently and the door opened without noise three or four inches.  A shaft of light from the room fell upon them but they could not yet see into the room.  They listened, and, hearing nothing, Obed pushed more boldly.  Then they saw before them a large apartment, containing little furniture, but with some faded old uniforms hanging about the walls.  Evidently it was used as a barracks for soldiers.  At the far end was a door and on the side to the right were two windows.

Ned went to the window and looked out.  He saw across a small court a high and blank stone wall, but when he looked upward he saw also a patch of sky.  It was a black sky, across which clouds were driving before a whistling wind, but it was the most beautiful sight that he had ever seen.  The sky, the free, open sky curving over the beautiful earth, was revealed again to him who had been buried for ages in a dungeon under the sea.  He would not go back.  In the tremendous uplift of feeling he would willingly choose death first.  He beckoned to White who joined him and who looked up without being bid.

“It’s out there that we’re going,” he said.  “We’ll have to cross a stormy sea before we reach freedom, but Ned, you and I are keyed up just high enough to cross.  We’ll put it to the touch and win it all.  Now for the next door.”

The second door was not locked and when they pushed it open they entered a small room, furnished handsomely in the Spanish fashion.  A lamp burned on a table, at which an officer sat looking over some papers.  He heard the two enter and it was too late for them to retreat, as he turned at once and looked at them, inquiry in his face.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“We are the soldiers who have charge of the two Texans in the cells,” replied Obed White boldly.  “We have just taken them their food and now we are going back to our quarters.”

“I have no doubt that you tell the truth,” replied the officer, “but your voice has changed greatly since yesterday.  You remember that I gave you an order then about the man White.”

“Quite true,” replied Obed quickly, raising his musket and taking aim, “and now I’m giving the order back to you.  It’s a poor rule that won’t work first one way and then the other.  Just you move or cry out and I shoot.  I’d hate to do it, because you’re not bad looking, but necessity knows the law of self-preservation.”

“You need not worry,” said the officer, smiling faintly.  “I will not move, nor will I cry out.  You have too great an advantage, because I see that your aim is good and your hand steady.  I surmise that you are the man White himself.”

“None other, and this is my young friend, Edward Fulton, who likes San Juan de Ulua as a castle but not as a hotel.  Hence he has decided to go away and so have I. Ned, look at those papers on his desk.  You might find among them a pass or two which would be mighty useful to us.”