“Of course we agree to your alternative, General,” replied the other officer, “as to what you say about Don Pachecho’s estancia, however, we can doubtless assimilate that with little difficulty. General Ruiz, his son-in-law, is dead——”
“And he left a remarkably pretty widow,” put in Rogero, “really I am in quite a hurry to establish headquarters near such a charming neighbor.”
“I was going to say,” resumed the other, “that as General Ruiz is dead we can naturally claim his property for the government as that of a revolutionist.”
This cool proposal met with great applause, induced, in a large measure, by the fact that each officer saw in his mind’s eye himself being awarded the property. Rogero, more comprehensive, had already mentally claimed it all for himself.
“You have heard the alternative, prisoners?” snapped Rogero, who had now quite dropped his mask of sardonic politeness, “What do you say?”
“I say that if we are to die we will die as American boys should, and accept no such disgraceful terms,” proudly replied Frank.
“And I, that we should be as bad sons as we would be unworthy citizens if we even considered your dastardly proposal,” exclaimed Harry.
“Very well, you have signed your own death warrants,” bitterly replied Rogero. “In a few days we shall have captured La Merced in any event, and I shall have much pleasure in informing your father of how his two promising youngsters died.”
It was well for Rogero at that moment that the boys’ hands were manacled. It was perhaps as well for every one in the room that they could not strike a blow. For to such a pitch of fury had the sneering words of the dark-skinned man before them aroused them that had they been free it would have cost him dear.
“For the last time I ask you?” demanded Rogero, “will you accede to my proposal?”