Guests poured out of the windows,
tables were overturned.
Dan quickly dragged the prostrate man into a clump of mesquite. His
first impulse had been to turn him over to the soldiers. But the
defiant, if faint murmurs of the patriot, "Long live San Blanco; death
to Rodriguez!" bringing back to him his emotions of the morning, caused
him to decide differently. He seized the man by the collar.
"Stand up," he said, "you are not hurt; only a bit winded. I guess
Rodriguez has had enough heads without yours. You thought you were
acting for your country's good; I guess you were, from all I hear."
The man had been looking at the speaker wonderingly, not understanding
a word. Dan turned to him impatiently.
"Get out!" he said. He pushed the man, searching his brain for the
Spanish equivalent. "What the mischief--oh," he glared at the
trembling prisoner. "_Vayase Vd! Largo de aqui!_"
The poor wretch needed no more. With a quick, smiling gleam of white
teeth he bowed, and the next instant was loping through the garden.
Dan sauntered slowly toward the hotel. Soldiers acting upon
information given by Miss Howland were beating the grounds, and there
was much shouting and occasionally a pistol shot.
But the hotel was deserted of the brilliant guests who had filled it
but a quarter of an hour before.
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