"Exhaustion, and perhaps slight sunstroke and shock. You must have had a bad fall, because you are bruised."
"I certainly fell, right down to the bottom of the trench; but that's not what I want to talk about. It is a big relief to see you safe, but where have you been?"
"It will take some time to tell." Evelyn bent closer over him as she began an account of her adventures in a low voice, and Cliffe dully imagined that she did not want the other occupant of the room to hear. The fellow was no doubt a doctor.
"I had no difficulty after I reached Don Martin's camp," she finished. "His daughter, the pretty girl we saw at the International, was with him most of the time, and afterward her duenna treated me very well. When the rebels advanced on Rio Frio, Don Martin thought it safer for Blanca and me to go with them, but they left us outside with a guard until the town was taken. Then I was told that a priest had picked you up badly hurt and they brought me here. The house belongs to a merchant who took some part in the revolution. You can imagine how anxious I was until Father Agustin sent a doctor."
"I hate to think of the danger you were in," he said; "though you seem to have shown surprising grit."
Evelyn laughed and patted his shoulder.
"Then I must have inherited it. I'm told that you and the others held the barricade stubbornly for two hours. Don Martin admits that he might not have taken Rio Frio if it hadn't been for the stand you made."
"He wouldn't have taken it, and there'd have been very few of us left, if Grahame hadn't rushed the gun. But I've something else to thank him for. It seems from your story that he got himself into trouble by going to your help."
"Yes," said Evelyn quietly. "You can thank him now, if you like." She beckoned the man across the room. "Come and join us, dear."
The red glow from outside fell on her face as Cliffe gave her a surprised look, and he noticed that she blushed. Then he held out his hand to Grahame, because he thought he understood.