She uttered an inarticulate cry, the poignant terror of which shook Gale’s nerve, and swayed as if she would faint.  Thorne caught her, and in husky voice importuned her to bear up.

“My darling!  For God’s sake don’t faint—­don’t go to pieces!  We’d be lost!  We’ve got a chance.  We’ll think of something.  Be strong!  Fight!”

It was plain to Gale that Thorne was distracted.  He scarcely knew what he was saying.  Pale and shaking, he clasped Mercedes to him.  Her terror had struck him helpless.  It was so intense—­it was so full of horrible certainty of what fate awaited her.

She cried out in Spanish, beseeching him; and as he shook his head, she changed to English: 

“Senor, my lover, I will be strong—­I will fight—­I will obey.  But swear by my Virgin, if need be to save me from Rojas—­you will kill me!”

“Mercedes!  Yes, I’ll swear,” he replied hoarsely.  “I know—­I’d rather have you dead than—­ But don’t give up.  Rojas can’t be sure of you, or he wouldn’t wait.  He’s in there.  He’s got his men there—­all around us.  But he hesitates.  A beast like Rojas doesn’t stand idle for nothing.  I tell you we’ve a chance.  Dick, here, will think of something.  We’ll slip away.  Then he’ll take you somewhere.  Only—­speak to him—­show him you won’t weaken.  Mercedes, this is more than love and happiness for us.  It’s life or death.”

She became quiet, and slowly recovered control of herself.

Suddenly she wheeled to face Gale with proud dark eyes, tragic sweetness of appeal, and exquisite grace.

“Senor, you are an American.  You cannot know the Spanish blood—­the peon bandit’s hate and cruelty.  I wish to die before Rojas’s hand touches me.  If he takes me alive, then the hour, the little day that my life lasts afterward will be tortured—­torture of hell.  If I live two days his brutal men will have me.  If I live three, the dogs of his camp...Senor, have you a sister whom you love?  Help Senor Thorne to save me.  He is a soldier.  He is bound.  He must not betray his honor, his duty, for me....Ah, you two splendid Americans—­so big, so strong, so fierce!  What is that little black half-breed slave Rojas to such men?  Rojas is a coward.  Now, let me waste no more precious time.  I am ready.  I will be brave.”

She came close to Gale, holding out her white hands, a woman all fire and soul and passion.  To Gale she was wonderful.  His heart leaped.  As he bent over her hands and kissed them he seemed to feel himself renewed, remade.

“Senorita,” he said, “I am happy to be your servant.  I can conceive of no greater pleasure than giving the service you require.”

“And what is that?” inquired Thorne, hurriedly.

“That of incapacitating Senor Rojas for to-night, and perhaps several nights to come,” replied Gale.

“Dick, what will you do?” asked Thorne, now in alarm.