"You have never heard our side," the girl spoke bitterly. "Was it military need that filched two hundred of our blooded horses from the ranches? Was it military need that robbed my ailing mother of her pet, the mare Diablo? Was it military need that gave our finest steeds to your Alcalde for his pleasure, that enabled half a dozen false officials to recruit their stables from our caponeras and sell horses in the open market?" Her eyes blazed. "Senor, it was tyranny and theft, no less. Had I been a man, like Benito, I, too, should have ridden with Sanchez." "Can you prove these things?" asked the Commander, sternly. "Si, senor," said Inez quickly. "It is well known hereabouts. Do not take my word," she smiled, "I am a woman--a Spaniard, on my mother's side. Ask your own countrymen--Samuel Brannan, Nathan Spear, William Leidesdorff." Hull pulled at his chin reflectively. "Something of this sort I have already heard," he said, "but I believed it idle gossip.... If your brother had come to me, instead of riding with the enemy--" "He is a youth, hot-blooded and impulsive, Senor Commandante." Swiftly, and to Hull's intense embarrassment, she knelt before him. "We love him so: my mother, who is ill, and I," she pleaded. "He is all we have.... Ah, senor, you will spare him--our Benito!" "Get up," said Hull a trifle brusquely. His tone, too, shook a little. "Confound it, girl, I'm not a murderer." He forced a smile. "If my men haven't shot the young scoundrel you may have him back." "And that," he added, as the girl rose with a shining rapture in her eyes, "may be tomorrow." He picked up a paper from the desk and regarded it thoughtfully. "There is truce at present. Sanchez will surrender if I give my word that there shall be no further raids." "And--you will do this, Commandante?" the girl asked, breathlessly. "I--will consult with Brannan, Leidesdorff and Spear, as you suggested," Hull replied. But his eyes were kind. The Senorita Inez had her answer. Impetuously, her arms went around his neck. An instant later, dazed, a little red, a moist spot on his cheek and a lingering fragrance clinging subtly like the touch of vanished arms, Hull watched her flying heels upon the muddy square. "Well, I'll be damned!" he said, explosively. * * * * * In the room which had been Inez' whilom prison--and which proved to be the only one available in the City Hotel, Adrian Stanley lay tossing and muttering. The woman who sat at his bedside watched anxiously each movement of his lips, listening eagerly to catch the incoherent, whispered words. For a time she could make of them no intelligent meaning. But now, after a long and quiet interval, he began to ask questions, though his eyes were still closed. "Am I going to die?" "No," said Inez, for it was she, "you've lost a lot of blood, but the doctor says there's small danger." The bearded face looked up half quizzically. "Are you glad?"