"My interest is aroused almost beyond bounds," he laughed. She returned the laugh. "Well, whoever it was that told me, I remember the story. It relates to our host of last night, Señor Mendoza, and Señor Peralta, father of that splendid young cavalier, Don Abelardo." The soldier's interest was now aroused in earnest. "The friendship of Mendoza and of the Señor Peralta, so the story goes, had beginning in old times. Both were soldiers, daring and efficient, and a common cause, that of freeing Spain from French dominance, led to mutual liking. They campaigned together for years. "A few hours' journey from Madrid, near Talavera city, is a long bluff which Colonel Mendoza held, with English troops, against the fury of Joseph Bonaparte's veterans. It was the pivotal center of the Iron Duke's position--of course, this Iron Duke was just Sir Arthur Wellesley then. This much is history." "I have read of Señor Mendoza's notable part in that great battle." "Well, in the charge, the second day, when the French line was breaking, Mendoza's horse was shot and it fell, pinning him beneath. Peralta saved him from death at the hands of a Toulousan lancer. The Colonel mounted another horse, nothing the worse for his experience. Twice before nightfall did he again owe his life to his friend Peralta. This, according to my informant." Morando said nothing. The lady continued: "Administrator Mendoza was instrumental in having a grant of land made to Señor Peralta, who came here to occupy it. He married and had a son, Abelardo. Later, the Administrator married, and his daughter Carmelita came to bless his home." Morando was looking intently at the speaker. "One night the renegades from the eastern valleys drove away many horses and cattle after maltreating the attending peons. Mendoza and Peralta, with their fighting Indians, pursued the fleeing miscreants. An arrow pierced Peralta's body, and he would have fallen to the ground had not Mendoza caught him. Under the protection of a branching oak, on the primeval hillside, the end came. The dying man's head lay on Mendoza's lap, their hands clasped together, while the sturdy Mendoza was weeping. Peralta spoke faintly: "'The soldier dies from a savage's arrow, after years of service on the field. Well, mio amigo, be a friend to my wife and boy.' "'You have my word of honor,' replied Mendoza. "Peralta continued: 'And--and--yes. My senses are leaving me. I must speak quickly. Let our lifetime of friendship live after us, in the union of our children when they are grown.'