"That was the name my mother gave me."
"It is I, Pedro, Pedrito, your brother," the bombero said, almost shouting with joy, and clasping her to his bosom.
"Pedrito! My brother! Yes, yes, I remember. Pedrito, I am—"
She fell senseless into her brother's arms.
"Wretch that I am, I have killed her! Mercedes, my beloved sister, come to yourself again, or I shall die."
The maiden opened her eyes again, and threw herself on the bombero's neck, weeping with joy.
"Pedrito! My kind brother, do not leave me, defend me; they would kill me."
"Poor girl, they will pass over my body before reaching you."
"They will do so," a sarcastic voice exclaimed behind the tent.
Two men appeared, Nocobotha and Pincheira. Pedrito, holding his sister, who was half-dead with terror, with his left hand, leant against one of the posts, drew his machete, and prepared for a vigorous defence.