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Updated: May 19, 2025
But so severe was the fall and so great Thurstane's weakness that he lost his senses and did not come to himself until daybreak. There he was, once more abandoned to the desert, but rich in a full haversack and a dead mule.
Thurstane's squad was quartered in one of the two outer rooms, and Coronado's squad in the other, each man having his musket loaded and lying beside him, with the butt at his feet and the muzzle pointing toward the wall.
Thurstane's face turned as red with pleasure as if it had been dipped in the sun. If this young lady was going to California, he might perhaps be her knight-errant across the desert, guard her from privations and hardships, and crown himself with her smiles. If she was poor, he might well, he would not speculate upon that; it was too dizzying.
A tall man in Mexican costume, with a scar on his chin and another on his cheek, was glaring at him with two intensely black and savage eyes. It was Texas Smith, taking the measure of Thurstane's fighting power and disposition. A hint from Coronado had warned the borderer that here was a person whom it might be necessary some day to get rid of.
"My dear lieutenant, that is so like you!" he said. "I own that I expected it. Many thanks." Thurstane's blue-black eyes studied this enigmatic being steadily and almost angrily. He could not at all comprehend the fellow's bland obstinacy and recklessness. "Very well," he said sullenly. "Let us start on our wild-goose chase. What I object to is taking the women with us.
Then desperation gave him courage, and he walked straight up to Thurstane. "My dear Lieutenant!" he cried, trying to seize the young fellow's hand. "Once more welcome to life! What a wonder! Another escape. You are a second Orlando almost a Don Quixote. And where are your two Sancho Panzas?" "You here!" was Thurstane's grim response, and he did not take the proffered hand.
Then, guessing at what had happened, he immediately added, "Those devils again! We must push on, the moment we can see." Apaches! It was a capital idea. He had an excuse now for hurrying away from a spot which he had stained with murder. If any one demanded that Thurstane's body should be sought for, or that those incumbrances Glover and Sweeny should be rescued, he could respond, Apaches!
"If we had reserved our fire, we should all have been lanced by this time. Let drive!" The cattle-drivers carried short rifles, of the then United States regulation pattern, which old Garcia had somehow contrived to pick up during the war perhaps buying them of drunken soldiers. Supported by Thurstane's pugnacious presence and hurried up by his vehement orders, they began to fire.
There was Sergeant Meyer; he had been Thurstane's right-hand man; moreover, he looked trustworthy. She seized the first opportunity to beckon him up to her eerie on the roof of the Casa. "Sergeant, I must speak with you privately," she said at once, with the frankness of necessity.
Unluckily for Coronado, Clara was half Teutonic, and could comprehend the tone of her father's race. Notwithstanding Thurstane's shyness and silences, she discovered his moral weight and gathered his unspoken meanings. There was more in this girl than appeared on the surface.
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