The whole mess stared.
“Sth-hunderation, it’s an Imperialist!” lisped Crittenden of Nodaway. He pointed at the newcomer’s uniform, which was of the Batallon del Emperador.
“Well, bring him on in,” said Driscoll to the pickets gripping the man by either arm.
“He was trying to pass through our lines,” one explained. 424“And when we stopped him, he begged hard to be brought to the Coronel Gringo, that is, to you, señor.”
The mess turned curiously on Driscoll. Why a half dead soldier of the Batallon del Emperador should have a preference as to his jailer was beyond them. But they were yet more puzzled to hear Driscoll address the prisoner by name.
“See here, Murgie,” he said, “is this the occasion Rodrigo meant when he talked about my meeting you soon? Is it? Come, crawl out of the grass. Show us what you’re up to. No, wait, feed first. There’s plenty left.”
But the old man had not once glanced toward the table. Whatever the pangs of hunger, another torment was uppermost.
“What do you mean by this,” Boone demanded, as though personally offended, “you’ve got the hospital color, dull lead on yellow? Here, take a drink. Yes, I know, it’s mescal, out-and-out embalmed deviltry that no self-respecting drunkard would touch, but Lord A’mighty, man, you need something!”
Murguía shook his head irritably. Offers of what his body craved were annoying hindrances before the craving of his soul. He twitched himself free of the sentinels, and limped painfully to where Driscoll sat. He wore no coat, but his green pantaloons with their crimson stripes were rolled to the knee, and the white calzoncillos beneath flapped against his skeleton ankles. His feet were bare, the better for an errand of stealth in the night. He was a pitiful spectacle, yet a repulsive, and the Americans despised themselves for the strange impulse they had to kick him out like a dog. They watched him wonderingly as he tried to speak. He panted from his late rough handling by the sentry, and his half-closed wound gave excruciating pain. The muscles of his face jerked horribly, but his will was tremendous, merciless, and at last the cords of the jaw knotted and hardened.
“To-morrow morn–morning,” he began, “the Emperor 425will fight. It is arranged for–for daybreak, señores. To to fight–to break through–to–to ESCAPE!”