God! It was
dreadful."
"A soldier? One of my men?" Longorio was incredulous.
Alaire turned upon him with a blazing anger in her face. "Is this
more of your protection?" she stormed. "I give you and your men
the freedom of my ranch, and you insult me while they assault my
women."
He ignored her accusation, inquiring of the elder woman, "Who was
the fellow?"
"How do I know," Dolores sobbed. "He is a--a thick, black fellow
with a scar on his lip, like a snarl."
"Felipe!"
"Yes, Felipe! I believe they called him that."
Longorio strode to the end of the livingroom, flung open the
wooden shutters of a window and, leaning far out, whistled sharply
on his fingers.
"Oiga! Teniente! Ho, you fellows!" he shouted.
From the darkness a voice answered; a man, evidently on guard,
came running.
"Call old Pancho," the general directed. "Tell him to bring me
black Felipe, the fellow with the torn lip. Quick!"
"Yes, general," came the voice; then the metallic rattle of spurs
and accoutrements as the sentry trotted away.
Dolores had completely broken down now, and Alaire was trying to
comfort her. Their guest remained by the window, frowning.
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