he has made
me bear!"

And Benito sank back upon his miserable bed, groaning with pain.

"Don't whine like that, you miserable cur!" said Joe, brutally. "It's
bad enough to have you here at all, without your disturbing the whole
place. Why did you come here?"

"Where else could I go? I never expected to get so far. I was faint
from loss of blood, and in frightful pain. I thought I should die as I
crawled along."

"Better you had than bring me into trouble, as you will if the
provost-marshal finds you here."

"It is cowardly of you to ill-treat and upbraid me. Take care! I am
helpless now, but by-and-by, when I am well and strong, you shall
suffer for your cruelty."

"What! you threaten me? But there, it is idle to waste words on such a
wretched rogue; I have other work to do. Now, young imp!" cried Joe,
turning to Mariquita, "stir yourself, and let us get out this batch of
bread."

The conversation which she had overheard, conveying as it did the
confirmation of her worst fears, had agitated Mariquita exceedingly,
but she knew that she must control her emotion, and arouse no
suspicions in the minds of these villains. Benito, wounded, and in
desperate case, was in no position to recognise her, and Joe was, of
course, completely in the dark as to whom he had admitted within his
shop.

The work in the cellar was not completed and the bread carried
upstairs for an hour or more, during which time Mariquita was able to
think over and decide what she would do. She had matured her plan when
they got upstairs.

"Pay me!" she said, saucily, to Valetta Joe. "I shan't stop here."

"Pay you, vile imp? Why, I only took you on trial!"

"Pay me!" she repeated. "You shan't cheat me."

"I owe you nothing. Be off out of this or you shall feel the weight of
my hand."

"Pay me, you swindling old rogue!" shouted Mariquita, in a shrill
voice. "I won't go till I get my rights."

"You won't!" cried Joe, as he seized her roughly by the collar and
dragged her towards the door.

"Villain! Thief! Murder! Help, help! He is killing me!" cried
Mariquita, now at the top of her voice, and this frenzied appeal had
the exact effect she hoped. A crowd of camp-followers quickly
gathered around the door of the shanty, and with it came a couple of
stalwart assistants of the provost-marshal.

"What's all this?" asked one of them, in a peremptory tone. "Leave
that lad alone, you old rascal!"

"What's he doing to you?" asked the other.