"I can't run away. I have to defend my quarter till the last. And then—well, it's the fortune of war—the French will make sure of all the officers, you may depend on that. But about yourself, Juanita; you won't be in any danger—except from Miguel."
"Why from Miguel? Won't he be a prisoner too?"
Jack laughed grimly.
"Miguel has taken care of that. Last night he disappeared from Saragossa—just in time to escape being gibbeted as an afrancesado, a traitor, and a spy."
Juanita's eyes blazed, her cheeks flamed with the hot Spanish blood.
"Kill him! Kill him, Jack!" she cried. "He was a traitor to my father; he is a traitor to Spain! Oh, if I were a man!"
Jack was amazed at the girl's fury.
"I don't think I'd like to soil my hands with him," he said quietly. "Besides, he will keep out of my way. But don't you see, Juanita, that he will come in with the French, and then—I'm afraid he might bother you, you know."
Juanita drew herself up with a proud air.
"I could borrow a knife!" she said. "A Spanish girl is not afraid to die."