“And when will that be, Senorita?”

“Not till the war is over.”

“But it has not begun yet; and it will be many moons before we whip these cursed Americanos.”

“How many, think you, Manuel?”

“I can’t tell, Inez; therefore we will not wait till the war is over.  The Padre is ready any time, and why not marry at once?”

“Sacra Dios!  I’ll do no such thing.”

“And why not, Inez?”

“Because they might kill you, Manuel, and then what would become of me?”

“You would be as well off then as now; there would be no difference, only you would be married.  You will mourn, any how, if I am killed.”

“How do you know I would?” Her Spanish eyes twinkled as she spoke; but for fear of going too far, she laid her hand on his shoulder.  Manuel turned sharply round.

“You deserve to be shot, Manuel, for joining in a miff.  Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be a soldier?”

He grasped her hand tighter, but made no reply.

“I say, why did not you tell me first?”

“And if I had told you, what then?”

“Why, I should not have let you do it, you savage.  If you had only asked me, I might be willing to marry you next week.  But as it is, I am not going to be left a widow, I can tell you.”

“Inez, I don’t believe you care whether I am killed of not.  I do not understand you at all.”

The girl’s eyes filled, and her lip quivered with emotion.  “Manuel do you think me a brute?  There is nobody to love Inez but her father and you.  I am not cold-hearted.”

“You speak truth, Inez; and my uncle will not live very long, for he has seen many years.  When he is gone, there will be nobody to take care of you but me; so the sooner we are married the better.”

“Not so.  You must come and see us as often as you can till the war is over; but I will marry no one now.”

“Will you promise it shall be as soon as the war is over?”

Inez coquettishly tossed her beautiful head, and advancing to the fire, gaily exclaimed—­“While we talked the tortillas burned.  Come, eat some supper.  I know they are as good as those you get at the Alamo.”

Manuel seated himself on a buffalo-robe, and while partaking of the evening meal, Inez chatted away on indifferent subjects, asking, during the conversation, what news had been received from the Texan army.

“We got news to-day that they are marching down to Gonzales, but I am thinking they will find hot work.”

“How many men may we number, Manuel, and think you the chances are for us?”

“By the blessed Virgin, if we were not ten to five Manuel Nevarro would not eat his tortilla in peace.  The Captain says we will scatter them like pecans in a high wind.”

“What bone is there to fight for at Gonzales?”

“Cannon, Inez, cannon.  Don’t you know we sent a thousand men to bring it here, and the white rascal sent five hundred to keep it there.  By the Virgin, we will see who gets it!”