.
"He protected me," she said. "It was while defending me that he was
wounded." Her eyes searched the physician's face. "Where," she
questioned fearfully, "is--"

"McTurpin?" returned the doctor. "Lord knows. He vamoosed,
absquatulated. You'll hear no more of him, I think, Miss Windham."

For a moment the dark lashes of the patient rose as if something in the
doctor's words had caught his attention; then they fell again over weary
eyes and he appeared to sleep. But when Doctor Jones was gone, Inez
found him regarding her with unusual interest.

"Did I hear him call you Windham?" he inquired, "Inez Windham?"

"Yes, that is my name," she answered.

"And your father's?"

"He is Don Roberto Windham of the Engineers," Inez leaned forward.
"Oh!" her eyes shone with a hope she dared not trust. "Tell me, quickly,
have you news of him?"

"Yes," said Stanley. "He is ill, but will recover. He will soon return."
His eyes dwelt on the girl in silence, musingly.

"Tell me more!" she pleaded. "We believed him lost. Ah, how my mother's
health will mend when she hears this. We have waited so long...."

"I was with him in the North," said Stanley. "Often, sitting at the
camp-fire, while the others slept, he told me of his wife, his daughter,
and his son, Benito. In my coat," he pointed to a garment hanging near
the door, "you will find a letter--" He followed her swift, searching
fingers, saw her press the envelope impulsively against her heart. While
she read his eyes were on her dreamily, until at last he closed them
with a little sigh.

CHAPTER XI

SAN FRANCISCO IS NAMED

Evening on the Windham rancho. Far below, across a vast green stretch of
meadow sloping toward the sea, the sun sank into crimson canopies of
cloud. It was one of those perfect days which come after the first
rains, mellow and exhilarating. The Trio in the rose arbor of the patio
were silent under the spell of its beauty. Don Roberto Windham, home
again, after long months of wandering and hardship, stood beside the
chair in which Senora Windham rested against a pillow. She had mended
much since his return, and her eyes as she looked up at him held the
same flashing, fiery tenderness which in the long ago had caused her to
renounce Castilian traditions and become the bride of an Americano. At
her feet upon a low stool sat her daughter, Inez, and Windham, as he
looked down, was a little startled at her likeness to the Spanish beauty
he had met and m