"Give me aguardiente."
"Oh!" the girl said imploringly; "do not drink spirits—they will kill you."
The bandit grinned horribly.
"Kill me?" he said, "Why, am I not a dead man already, poor fool?"
The White Gazelle gave Red Cedar a glance.
"Let us do what he wishes," the latter whispered; "he is a lost man."
"Aguardiente," the sufferer said again; "make haste, if you do not wish me to die ere I have spoken."
Red Cedar seized his gourd, and in spite of the girl's entreaties, thrust the neck between the pirate's lips. Sandoval drank deeply.
"Ah!" he said, with a sigh of satisfaction; "at present I feel strong. I did not believe that it was so difficult to die. Well, if there be a God, may His will be done. Red Cedar, give me one of your pistols, and leave me your gourd."
The squatter did as his comrade requested.