Brannan and Leidesdorff watched them galloping down the camino ten
minutes later under the guidance of a smart young corporal.
"I trust it will soon be over," said the former. "I saw Benito Windham
riding beside Sanchez in the battle today."
* * * * *
The Senorita Inez' head was high that afternoon when McTurpin came upon
her suddenly in the patio of the Windham hacienda. She rose haughtily.
"Senor, this intrusion is unpardonable. If my brother was within
call--" McTurpin bowed low. There was a touch of mockery in his eye.
"It is about your brother that I've come to talk with you, Miss Inez."
The girl's hand sought her breast. "Benito! He is not--" Words failed
her.
"No, not dead--yet," McTurpin answered.
"God in Heaven! Tell me," said the girl, imploringly! "He is wounded?
Dying?" McTurpin took a seat beside her on the rustic bench. "Benito
isn't dead--nor wounded so far as I know. But," his tone held an ominous
meaning, "it might be better if he were."
"I--I do not understand," said Inez, staring.
"Then let me make it clear." McTurpin struck a fist against his palm.
"Your brother is American. Very well.
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