“Do not use that name,” her mother said reprovingly.  But Don Roberto laughed.  “You are the second to declare allegiance to the Stars and Stripes.”  He took Benito’s hand.  “My son’s discovered he’s American, Don Adrian.”

Presently Benito spoke again.  “That is not all, my father.  There is soon to be a meeting for relief of immigrants lost in the Sierra Nevada snows.  James Reed will organize an expedition from Yerb—­from San Francisco.  And I wish to go.  There are women and children starving, perhaps.”

“It is the Donner party.  They tried a short cut and the winter overtook them.  I, too, will go,” said Don Roberto.

“And I,” volunteered Stanley.

But the women had it otherwise.  “You have been too long gone from me,” Anita quavered.  “I would fear your loss again.”  And Inez argued that her Adrian was not recovered from his wound or illness.  Finally it was decided that Benito only would accompany the expedition.  The talk fell upon other matters.  Alcalde Bartlett had been discredited, though not officially, since his return from capture by the rancheros.  He was soon to be displaced and there would be no further commandeering of horses and cattle.

“The commandante tells me,” Windham said, “that there is still no news of the Warren’s launch which was sent last December to pay the garrison at Sutter’s Fort.  Bob Ridley’s men, who cruised the San Joaquin and Sacramento rivers, found nothing.”

“But—­the boat and its crew couldn’t vanish completely?” Benito’s tone held puzzled incredulity.  “There would be Wreckage.  Floating bodies—­”

“Unless,” said Adrian, “they had been hidden—­buried secretly, perhaps.”

“Adrian, what do you mean?” asked Inez in excitement.  “It was about the time that—­”

“McTurpin left,” responded Stanley.  “I’ve heard more than a whisper of his possible connection with the disappearance.  McTurpin didn’t leave alone.  He rounded up half a dozen rough-looking fellows and they rode out of town together.”

There was a silence.  Then Benito spoke.  “We haven’t seen the last of him, I fear.”

CHAPTER XII

THE NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS

It was almost a month later that Inez galloped home from San Francisco with a precious missive from the absent brother.  They had outfitted at Johnson’s ranch near Sacramento and, encountered the first expedition returning with twenty-two starved wretches from the Donner Camp.  Many women and children still remained there.

“We started on the day which is a gringo fete because it is the natal anniversary of the great George Washington,” Benito’s chronicle concluded.  “May it prove a good omen, and may we bring freedom, life to the poor souls engulfed by the snowdrifts.  I kiss your hands.  Benito.”

A fortnight passed before there came another letter.  The second relief party had reached Donner Camp without mishap but, with seventeen survivors, had been storm-bound on a mountain summit and returned with but eleven of the rescued after frightful hardship.  Benito was recuperating in a Sacramento hospital from frozen feet.