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  She was free.

  Just across the Plaza the custom house looked down at her, the late sunglinting redly on its tiles. There, no doubt, she would find CommanderHull. She hastened forward.

  "Not so fast, my dear!"

  A hand fell on her shoulder rudely. With, a gasp she looked up atMcTurpin.

  Beside the gambler, whose eyes burned angrily, Inez perceived a tall,lean, bearded stranger.

  "Let me go!" she demanded.

  "I have brought the parson," said McTurpin. "We can be married at once."

  "I--I--let us wait a little," stammered Inez.

  "Why?" the gambler asked suspiciously. "Where were you going?"

  "Nowhere," she evaded, "for a walk--"

  "Well, you can walk back to the hotel, my lady," said McTurpin. "I havelittle time to waste. And there's Benito to consider," he concluded.Suddenly he put an arm about her waist and kissed her. Inez thought ofher brother and tried to submit. But she could not repress a little cryof aversion, of fear. The bearded man stepped forward. "Hold up a bit,partner," he drawled. "This doesn't look quite regular. Don't you wishto marry him, young lady?"

  "Of course she does," McTurpin blustered. "She rode all the way in fromher mother's ranch to be my wife." He glared at Inez. "Isn't it true?"he flung at her. "Tell him."

  She nodded her head miserably. But the stranger was not satisfied. "Letgo of her," he said, and when McTurpin tailed to heed the order, sinewyfingers on the gambler's wrist enforced it.

  "Now, tell me, Miss, what's wrong?" the bearded one invited. "Has thisfellow some hold on you? Is he forcing you into this marriage?"

  Again the girl nodded dumbly.

  "She lies," said McTurpin, venomously, but the words were scarcely outof his mouth before the stranger's fist drove them back. McTurpinstaggered. "Damn you!" he shouted, "I teach you to meddle between a manand his woman."

  Inez saw something gleam in his hand as the two men sprang upon eachother. She heard another blow, a groan. Screaming, she fled uphilltoward the custom house.

  CHAPTER X

  HULL "CAPITULATES"

  Like a startled deer, Inez Windham fled from McTurpin and the stranger,her little, high-heeled slippers sinking unheeded into the horse-troddenmire of Portsmouth Square, her silk skirt spattered and soiled; herhair, freed from the protecting mantilla, blowing in the searching tradewind. Thus, as Commander Hull sat upon the custom house veranda, readingthe latest dispatch from Captain Ward, she burst upon him--a flushed,disheveled, lovely vision with fear-stricken eyes.

  "Senor," she panted, "Senor Commandante ... I must speak with you atonce!"

  Hull rose. "My dear young lady"--he regarded her with patentconsternation--"my dear young lady ... w-what is wrong?"

  She was painfully aware of her bedraggled state, the whirlwind lack ofceremony with which she had propelled herself into his presence.Suddenly words failed her, she was conscious that an arm stretchedtoward her as she swayed. Next she lay upon a couch in an inner chamber,the commander, in his blue-and-gold-braid stiffness bending over her,gravely anxious.

  She rose at once, ignoring his protesting gesture.

  "I--I fainted?" she asked perplexedly. Hull nodded. "Something excitedyou. A fight in the street below. A man was stabbed--"

  "Oh!" The white face of the bearded stranger sprang into her memory, "Ishe dead?"

  "No, but badly hurt, I fancy," said the Commander. "They have taken himto the City Hotel."

  Desperately, she forced herself to speak. "I have come, senor, to ask apardon for my brother. He is very dear to me--and to my mother"--sheclasped her hands and held them toward him supplicatingly. "Senor, ifBenito should be captured--you will have mercy?"

  The commander regarded her with puzzled interest. "Who is Benito, littleone?"

  "His name is Windham. My father was a gring--Americano, Commandante."

  Hull frowned. "An American ... fighting against his country?" he saidsharply.

  "Ah, sir"--the girl came closer in her earnestness--"he does not fightagainst the United States ... only against robbers who would hide behindits flag." In her tone there was the outraged indignation of a sufferingpeople. "Horse thieves, cattle robbers."

  "Hush," said Hull, "you must not speak thus of American officials. Theirseizures, I am told, were unavoidable--for military needs alone."

  "You have never heard our side," the girl spoke bitterly. "Was itmilitary need that filched two hundred of our blooded horses from theranches? Was it military need that robbed my ailing mother of her pet,the mare Diablo? Was it military need that gave our finest steeds toyour Alcalde for his pleasure, that enabled half a dozen false officialsto recruit their stables from our caponeras and sell horses in the openmarket?" Her eyes blazed. "Senor, it was tyranny and theft, no less. HadI been a man, like Benito, I, too, should have ridden with Sanchez."

  "Can you prove these things?" asked the Commander, sternly.

  "Si, senor," said Inez quickly. "It is well known hereabouts. Do nottake my word," she smiled, "I am a woman--a Spaniard, on my mother'sside. Ask your own countrymen--Samuel Brannan, Nathan Spear, WilliamLeidesdorff."

  Hull pulled at his chin reflectively. "Something of this sort I havealready heard," he said, "but I believed it idle gossip.... If yourbrother had come to me, instead of riding with the enemy--"

  "He is a youth, hot-blooded and impulsive, Senor Commandante." Swiftly,and to Hull's intense embarrassment, she knelt before him. "We love himso: my mother, who is ill, and I," she pleaded. "He is all we have....Ah, senor, you will spare him--our Benito!"

  "Get up," said Hull a trifle brusquely. His tone, too, shook a little."Confound it, girl, I'm not a murderer." He forced a smile. "If my menhaven't shot the young scoundrel you may have him back."

  "And that," he added, as the girl rose with a shining rapture in hereyes, "may be tomorrow." He picked up a paper from the desk and regardedit thoughtfully. "There is truce at present. Sanchez will surrender if Igive my word that there shall be no further raids."

  "And--you will do this, Commandante?" the girl asked, breathlessly.

  "I--will consult with Brannan, Leidesdorff and Spear, as you suggested,"Hull replied. But his eyes were kind. The Senorita Inez had her answer.Impetuously, her arms went around his neck. An instant later, dazed, alittle red, a moist spot on his cheek and a lingering fragrance clingingsubtly like the touch of vanished arms, Hull watched her flying heelsupon the muddy square.

  "Well, I'll be damned!" he said, explosively.

  * * * * *

  In the room which had been Inez' whilom prison--and which proved to bethe only one available in the City Hotel, Adrian Stanley lay tossing andmuttering. The woman who sat at his bedside watched anxiously eachmovement of his lips, listening eagerly to catch the incoherent,whispered words. For a time she could make of them no intelligentmeaning. But now, after a long and quiet interval, he began to askquestions, though his eyes were still closed. "Am I going to die?"

  "No," said Inez, for it was she, "you've lost a lot of blood, but thedoctor says there's small danger."

  The bearded face looked up half quizzically. "Are you glad?"

  "Oh ... yes," said Inez, with a quick-taken respiration.

  "Then it's all right," the patient murmured sleepily. His eyes closed.

  Inez' color heightened as she watched him. What had he meant, shewondered, and decided that his brain was not quite clear. But, somehow,this was not the explanation she desired.

  Presently Dr. Elbert Jones came in, cheering her with his breezy, jovialdrawl.

  "Getting tired of your task?" he questioned. But Inez shook her head."He protected me," she said. "It was while defending me that he waswounded." Her eyes searched the physician's face. "Where," shequestioned 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 thedoct
or's words had caught his attention; then they fell again over wearyeyes and he appeared to sleep. But when Doctor Jones was gone, Inezfound 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'shealth will mend when she hears this. We have waited so long...."

  "I was with him in the North," said Stanley. "Often, sitting at thecamp-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 nearthe door, "you will find a letter--" He followed her swift, searchingfingers, saw her press the envelope impulsively against her heart. Whileshe read his eyes were on her dreamily, until at last he closed themwith a little sigh.

  CHAPTER XI

  SAN FRANCISCO IS NAMED

  Evening on the Windham rancho. Far below, across a vast green stretch ofmeadow sloping toward the sea, the sun sank into crimson canopies ofcloud. It was one of those perfect days which come after the firstrains, mellow and exhilarating. The Trio in the rose arbor of the patiowere silent under the spell of its beauty. Don Roberto Windham, homeagain, after long months of wandering and hardship, stood beside thechair in which Senora Windham rested against a pillow. She had mendedmuch since his return, and her eyes as she looked up at him held thesame flashing, fiery tenderness which in the long ago had caused her torenounce Castilian traditions and become the bride of an Americano. Ather feet upon a low stool sat her daughter, Inez, and Windham, as helooked down, was a little startled at her likeness to the Spanish beautyhe had met and married a generation before.

  Conscious of his glance, her eyes turned upward and she held out herhand to him. "Father, mine," she said in English, "you have made theroses bloom again in mother's cheeks. And in my heart," she added with aquick, impulsive tenderness.

  Robert Windham bent and kissed her wind-tossed hair. "I think anotherhas usurped me in the latter task." He smiled, although not without atouch of sadness. "Ah, well, Adrian is a fine young fellow. You need notblush so furiously."

  "I think he comes," said the Senora Anita, and, unconsciously, her armwent around the girl. "Is not that his high-stepping mare and hisbeanpole of a figure riding beside Benito in yon cloud of dust?"

  She smiled down at Inez. "Do not mind your mother's jesting--Go now tosmooth your locks and place a rose within them--as I used to do when DonRoberto came."

  Inez rose and made her way into the casa. She heard a clatter of hoofsand voices. At the sound of one her heart leaped strangely.

  "We have famous news," she heard her brother say. "The name of YerbaBuena has been changed to San Francisco. Here is an account of it inBrannan's _California Star_." She heard the rustle of a paper then, oncemore her brother's voice: "San Francisco!" he pronounced it lovingly."Some day it will be a ciudad grande--perhaps even in my time."

  "A great city!" repeated his mother. "Thus my father dreamed of it....But you will pardon us, Don Adrian, for you have other things in mindthan Yerb--than San Francisco's future. See, my little one! Even now shecomes to bid you welcome."

  Inez as she joined them gave her hand to Stanley. "Ah, Don Adrian, yourcolor is high"--her tone was bantering, mock-anxious. "You have not,perchance, a touch of fever?"

  He eyed her hungrily. "If I have," he spoke with that slow gentlenessshe loved so well, "it is no fever that requires roots or herbs....Shall I," he came a little closer, "shall I put a name to it, Senorita?"His words were for her ears alone. Her eyes smiled into his. "Come, letus show you the rose garden, Senor Stanley," she said with playfulformality and placed her silk-gloved fingers on his arm.

  Senora Windham's hand groped for her husband's. There were tears in hereyes, but he bent down and kissed them away. "Anita, mia, do not grieve.He is a good lad."

  "It is not that." She hid her face against his shoulder. "It is notthat--"

  "I understand," he whispered.

  After a little time Benito spoke. "Mother, I learned something from thewarring of the rancheros aganist Alcalde Bartlett." He came forward andpicked up the newspaper which had fallen from his mother's lap. "Ilearned," his hand fell on his father's shoulder, "that I am anAmerican."

  "Benito!" said his mother quickly.

  "I am Don Roberto's son, as well as thine, remember, madre mia!" hespoke with unusual gentleness. "Even with Sanchez, Vasquez and Guerreroat my side in battle, I did not shoot to kill. Something said within,'These men are brothers. They are of the clan of Don Roberto, of thyfather.' So I shot to miss. And when the commandante, Senor Hull,dismissed me with kind words--he who might have hanged me as atraitor--my heart was full of love for all his people. And contrition.Mother, you will forgive? You, who have taught me all the pride of theHidalgo. For I must say the truth, to you and everyone...." He knelt ather feet, impressing a kiss of love and reverence upon heroutstretched hand.

  "Rise, my son," she said, tremulously. "You are right, and it is well."She smiled. "Who am I to say my boy is no Americano? I, who wed the bestand noblest of them all."

  There was a little silence. Inez and Don Adrian, returning, paused amoment, half dismayed. "Come, my children," said Anita Windham.

  "Ah," cried Inez, teasingly, "we are not the only ones who have beenmaking love." She led her companion forward. "We have come to ask yourblessing, mother, father mine," she whispered. "I," her eyes fell, "I amtaken captive by a gringo."

  "Do not use that name," her mother said reprovingly. But Don Robertolaughed. "You are the second to declare allegiance to the Stars andStripes." He took Benito's hand. "My son's discovered he's American,Don Adrian."

  Presently Benito spoke again. "That is not all, my father. There is soonto be a meeting for relief of immigrants lost in the Sierra Nevadasnows. James Reed will organize an expedition from Yerb--from SanFrancisco. And I wish to go. There are women and childrenstarving, perhaps."

  "It is the Donner party. They tried a short cut and the winter overtookthem. I, too, will go," said Don Roberto.

  "And I," volunteered Stanley.

  But the women had it otherwise. "You have been too long gone from me,"Anita quavered. "I would fear your loss again." And Inez argued that herAdrian was not recovered from his wound or illness. Finally it wasdecided that Benito only would accompany the expedition. The talk fellupon other matters. Alcalde Bartlett had been discredited, though notofficially, since his return from capture by the rancheros. He was soonto be displaced and there would be no further commandeering of horsesand cattle.

  "The commandante tells me," Windham said, "that there is still no newsof the Warren's launch which was sent last December to pay the garrisonat Sutter's Fort. Bob Ridley's men, who cruised the San Joaquin andSacramento rivers, found nothing."

  "But--the boat and its crew couldn't vanish completely?" Benito's toneheld puzzled incredulity. "There would be Wreckage. Floating bodies--"

  "Unless," said Adrian, "they had been hidden--buried secretly, perhaps."

  "Adrian, what do you mean?" asked Inez in excitement. "It was about thetime that--"

  "McTurpin left," responded Stanley. "I've heard more than a whisper ofhis possible connection with the disappearance. McTurpin didn't leavealone. He rounded up half a dozen rough-looking fellows and they rodeout of town together."

  There was a silence. Then Benito spoke. "We haven't seen the last ofhim, I fear."

  CHAPTER XII

  THE NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS

  It was almost a month later that Inez galloped home from San Franciscowith a precious missive from the absent brother. They had outfitted atJohnson's ranch near Sacramento and, encounte
red the first expeditionreturning with twenty-two starved wretches from the Donner Camp. Manywomen and children still remained there.

  "We started on the day which is a gringo fete because it is the natalanniversary of the great George Washington," Benito's chronicleconcluded. "May it prove a good omen, and may we bring freedom, life tothe poor souls engulfed by the snowdrifts. I kiss your hands. BENITO."

  A fortnight passed before there came another letter. The second reliefparty had reached Donner Camp without mishap but, with seventeensurvivors, had been storm-bound on a mountain summit and returned withbut eleven of the rescued after frightful hardship. Benito wasrecuperating in a Sacramento hospital from frozen feet.

  * * * * *

  "Look, Roberto," exclaimed Senora Windham as they cantered into SanFrancisco one morning. "A ship all gay with banners! See the townsfolkare excited. They rush to the Embarcadero. The band plays. It must bethe festival of some Americano patron saint."

  "It is the long expected New York volunteers," replied her husband."They've been recruited for the past year for service in California.Colonel Stevenson, the commander, is a most distinguished man. Thepresident himself made him an offer of command if he could raise aregiment of California volunteers." Windham smiled. "I believe it isfor colonization rather than actual military duty that they've been sentout here ... three shiploads of them with two doctors and a chaplain."