"Oh, I discovered it the other day—I found you had your hair tied up beneath your hat. Here, men—somebody bring a light! Be lively about it!"
"All right, sir," said one of the men. "Have one directly."
"No use, Señor Merriwell," came weakly from the lips of the disguised girl. "I shall be dead in a minute. Ay-de mi! Poor Gonchita! You theenk she ees veree bad girl? Beel he say he weel marree her. He get me to fool you, señor. Then you are so veree brave! Señor Frank, I theenk you are de han'someest, de braveest man I evere know. I run away from Beel. I wear de boyee's clothes an' come here. Dat ees all. Now I haf to die."
"Perhaps not, Gonchita," said Merry, with infinite pity for the unfortunate girl. "We'll see what can be done for you."
She managed to press one of his hands to her lips.
"So goode—so han'some!" she whispered. "Good-by, señor! Eet ees ovare."
Then one of the men came out with a lighted lantern; but before the light fell on the face of the wounded girl Frank knew he was holding a corpse in his arms.