Upon the height the convent, a ruin old and gray, Towered upward, and its shadow across the valley lay.

Before that ancient ruin, prone on the scented grass,

A boy of fifteen summers watched day's bright glory pass:

The lad was there on duty and oft about him scanned.

Zanora feared the coming of robber Gomez's

band;

Of Gomez, fierce and heartless, the terror of the

vale,

Whose name made women shudder and bravest men grow pale.

Unto the town a rumor that Gomez fierce would

come

And sack the peaceful hamlet made stoutest hearts all dumb.

The peasants cleaned their firelocks, the women watched and prayed

That the band of robber Gomez upon its path be stayed.

Yet time wore on, and scathless still stood the little town,

But from its ancient convent a watcher still looked

down.

For clear from 'neath its portals each roadway might be scanned,

And there from morn till night they watched for Gomez's band.

The old bell of the convent within its tower still

hung,

Its ropes with dangling curves seemed waiting to be rung,

For if a sight of Gomez came to the watcher there, He straight would let the old bell with warning fill the air,

Unto the town a signal to rally fast and stand, And, ready for the onslaught, beat back the robber band.

This day was Rooe watcher until the sun hung

low,

And then, with watching wearied, he lay and gazed below.

He watched the smoke that floated above his mother's cot.

To him the grazing cattle seemed each a moving

dot.

Faint from the bustling village came murmurs low and deep;

The bells far off did tinkle; the lad lay fast asleep. Asleep he lay, but not for long-he woke; a grimy hand

Pressed his mouth!

His wrists were bound! Around him Gomez's band!

They dragged him to the convent; cried Gomez, "Rope this fool!"

Then 'neath the rope they placed him, kneeling upon a stool.

Around his neck so slender the snaky bell-rope's

fold

They fastened. Then cried Gomez, "That bell won't soon be tolled!

Red Gomez drew his sabre, and then-What was that sound?

Bom! Bom! The convent tocsin! It fairly shook the ground.

Bom! Bom! Pale grew the robbers, yet Gomez cried, "Advance!"

Too late, the town was rousing, and lost the bandit's chance.

Some scattering shots! The robbers fled over the hill-top's crown.

Bom! tolled the bell yet fainter-saved was the little town.

Straight upward strode the peasants, up to the convent tower,

Before them sways a something-from which the bravest cower;

Bom! clanged the bell yet fainter, and with the passing toll

Its dying sob bore upward the hapless Rooe's soul.

They took him down with wailing, and bitter tears were shed,

For he who saved Zanora, mute as its bell-was

dead.

W. R. Rose.

PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROS., NEW YORK.