Then, somehow, everything was blotted out for Riego. When consciousness came again to the boy, the cool air of the dawn was choked with dust clouds till he could not see ten feet before him and his ears were nearly bursting with the thunder-beat of frantic hoofs. Dim horses were rearing and plunging against the reddening dawn. There were shouts and cries and firing! Firing! Who was losing? Who was _winning_? Dear God, Alva's men were sweeping back across the Rio Grande! One little frightened boy had saved the day for the country that had given him refuge from oppression. But what was that? A call for help? _Whose voice was that?_ Riego plunged into the thick of the dust cloud toward the cry, and dropped by Pascual's side. How could he have known that his brother would ride that night with the invaders! But Pascual was striving to speak. Riego leaned over him and caught the whisper: "Lorente shot me down to get my horse and escape!" And now the gringos were circling round the wounded one--they would beat out his brains with their guns! But--but--why, they were lifting him up, and _tenderly_! The Americans were lifting up his wounded brother! * * * * * Many and bewildering were the things which happened to Riego in the next few hours. First, he and the all-but-dead Pascual were carried by the soldiers to the American camp. Then his brother was taken away from him and borne into a closed tent. The soldiers gathered around Riego and patted him on the shoulder. They gave him many things--things to eat and coins and pocket-knives and tobacco-tags, all the while challenging him to smile--he whose captured brother was yonder! Later the big captain sent for him and took him by the hand. "Riego Yañez," he said, "I am proud to shake hands with an American hero!" At length a tall soldier came to Riego and led him to the closed tent. But the tall soldier did not enter; he merely pushed the boy inside the tent and dropped the khaki flap. Riego blinked his eyes. Somebody was lying stretched out on a cot, and somebody was fanning him--the Beautiful One and his brother! Riego crept toward her suddenly outstretched hands. Then he leaned over Pascual. But Pascual's eyes were closed and on his face was a yellow pallor. "The surgeon has taken out the ball," whispered the Beautiful One. "He will live, with good nursing, and I am on the job." She paused a moment, then asked, as she looked into his face with concern: "Aren't you happy, you tragic little soldier? Why don't you smile at the good news?" "How--" began the child--and a strange, sick feeling swept over him--"how long before he will be well enough to be stood against a wall--and----" "Why, you poor child!"--and the big tears sprang to the señorita's eyes--"your brother will not be stood against a wall and shot for treason--never--_never_! And he's not going to be shut up in prison, either!"