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tell us where we’re going?” Ellis asked him in Spanish.
    â€œCertainly. You’re on the way to the juzgado to stand trial for entering Spanish territory illegally. It’s high time they took some action.”
    In the courthouse they saw dignified, stem-looking Judge Pedro Galindo de Navarro, a handsome, gray-haired Spaniard leafing through a stack of papers on his desk. “That’s the evidence against you,” the officer told them. “It’s taken Judge Galindo a month to read it all. But now he’s ready to announce his decision.”
    The prisoners stood with hats in hands. It reminded Ellis of waiting for a teacher to decide whether or not to whip him. Don José Díaz de Bustamante, the prosecutor, solemnly entered the room and stood to the right of the judge, who had risen to his feet. Don Pedro Ramón de Verea, the prisoners’ counsel, entered and stood at the judge’s left, his face relaxed, almost smiling. I guess he figures he did all he could for us and is glad it’s over, Ellis thought. He wasn’t prepared for what followed.
    â€œI order all charges against the accused dismissed,” the judge said, “and I recommend their immediate release.”
    The prisoners appeared at first unable to comprehend the verdict. Then it seemed as if heavy chains had been miraculously removed and they were floating on air. Ellis’ legs felt suddenly weak, but he smiled broadly. Freedom! He recommends that we be released! He glanced at Ephraim Blackburn and Joel Pierce, and saw tears streaming down their faces.
    â€œI never had much confidence in Spanish justice,” Cooley exclaimed. “It’s slow, but I can’t complain now.”
    â€œThank God, thank God,” Blackburn said hoarsely. “I feared I’d never see my loved ones again.”
    â€œI doubt if my wife will even recognize me,” Joel Pierce said sadly. ‘‘They waited too lon” Ellis looked at him and had to agree. He’d never fully recovered his health and was gaunt-faced and pallid, obviously in bad shape. The scar on his pale cheek was an ugly purple line.
    â€œI hope they’ll furnish us horses for the ride home,” Duncan said. “I’ll walk if I have to, but they took our horses in Nacogdoches, so they owe us some.”
    All of the prisoners remained at the barracks nights, for there was no reason that Fero and the others should return to San Carlos. All of them went from store to store during the days, buying a few extra garments for the journey home. Ellis felt like running around shouting, “We’re free! We’re free!” but managed to restrain himself. He saw Ephraim Blackburn, his thick hair white, looking more solemn than usual. Ellis smiled. “I thought you’d be celebrating like the rest of us,” he said.
    â€œI’d like to,” Blackburn replied, “and I would if I could stop thinking about Joel. He’s not well enough to travel, but he’s determined to go. I’m afraid the trip will kill him, but we can’t go off and leave him here alone.” Ellis’ smile faded. He’d forgotten about Joel.
    The next morning, a captain who had always been sympathetic to the prisoners called them together, and Ellis knew from his expression that he wasn’t bringing good news. He cleared his throat.
    â€œI regret to tell you that General Salcedo did not agree with Judge Galindo’s ruling and suspended it. He is sending the records to Spain and requesting the king to make a ruling.” Ellis listened but couldn’t believe what he heard.
    â€œGood God!” Zalmon Cooley exclaimed.
    â€œThe Lord is my Shepherd,” Ephraim Blackburn intoned.
    â€œSon-of-a-bitch!” Fero shouted. Ellis’ lips moved numbly, but no words came. If they want to torture us to death as painfully as possible, they’re doing a good job of it, he thought. Despondently, he and