“I think old Pedro Garcia would be as good a man as you could get to stay on the place,” said Neal. “He knows how to get hold of the best of the Greasers and is rather particular who comes loafing about, on his daughter’s account. She’s a pretty little creetur, that Lolita Garcia, and I don’t wonder he watches her like a hawk. Suppose I go and look up the old fellow and send him over to you. I’ve no family to keep me and I thought you and I might start off soldiering together.”
“First-rate idea,” declared John. “I’m with you, Neal. Then I will ride over to see Bud, and, if you will hunt up Pedro, we can make tracks in no time.”
Christine offered no further word of protest, but watched the two men mount and ride off down the road and on till they were lost to sight. Then the girl felt an arm around her waist. “Isn’t it glorious,” said Alison, “to be a man and to be able to go to war?”
“Yes, I think it is much more so than to be a woman and to sit at home and see your dear ones leave, to go perhaps to their death.”
“Don’t hint at such a thing,” returned Alison. “We shall be sure to win.”
“With no fighting?”
“Of course there’ll be fighting, but John will not be killed.”
“How do you know that?”
“I feel positive of it. At all events we shall see none of the fighting, for it will not be in our part of the country. Mr. Jordan says so.”
“You pin your faith on what he says, always, I think.”