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As he returned from this trifling duty, he necessarily again passed the box where were Don Gonzales, amid his party, and seeing Ruez standing there awaiting his return, he again paused for a moment to exchange at word with the boy, and once more received a pleasant greeting from Isabella and her father.
"Then why say that he's not rough and tough? that means something," continued the boy, with not a little pertinacity in defence of his new friend. "There's some difference, let me tell you, Master Ruez, between facing an enemy with blazing gunpowder before your eyes, and merely swimming a while in cold water."
"Strange," thought the prisoner-he knew it for Ruez Gonzales's voice at once; "where can that boy be secreted?" He mused for a second of time. This was the portion of the guard room where the officer on duty had loaded the guns for his execution, and from here they had been taken and passed into the hands of the men.
"Ah, Ruez, you turned traitor, and betray me? well, there can be little harm, perhaps, to have all known now." "Now?" repeated Ruez. "Why do you use that word so decidedly?"
At first all intercourse was strictly denied him with any person outside the prison walls, but one afternoon he was delighted as the door of his cell was thrown open, and in the next moment Ruez sprang into his arms. "My dear, dear friend!" said the boy, with big tears starting from his eyes, and his voice trembling with mingled emotions of pleasure and of grief.
At the door of Don Gonzales's house the page was met by Ruez and Isabella; and those who held the wounded boy, hastily telling of his hurt, and the manner in which it was received, carried him, as directed by Isabella, to her brother's room, and a surgeon was at once sent for. "Sister," whispered Ruez, "did you hear what those people said?" "What, brother?"
He seemed to, and doubtless did, actually understand Isabella's heart better than she did herself, and a close observer would have noted well the various emotions that his expressive countenance exhibited, while he gazed thus intently at his dearly loved sister. Ruez was a strange boy; he had few friends; but those few he loved with all his heart.
"Yes, I see him, Ruez," replied Isabella, "and it is the first time he has been out on duty, I think, since his dangerous and protracted illness." "I know it is the first time," said the boy, "and I don't think he's hardly able to be out now. How very pale he is looking, Isabella."
"How strange he was not shot, when so many fired at him." "Sister?" "Well." "Can you keep a secret?" "I think so, Ruez," said Isabella, half smiling at the question of her brother. "Well, it's not so very wonderful, since I drew the bullets from the guns!"
"I rested well last night, and had pleasant dreams, Ruez." "Last night," said the boy, "that reminds me of some music I heard." "Music?" "Yes, a serenade; a manly voice and guitar, I should judge." "It is strange; I dreamed that I heard it, too, but on waking I thought it was but a dream. It might have been real," mused Isabella, thoughtfully.
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