"I do," I said, meekly, and then I began to weep. I was really unnerved, and began to wish I had never accepted the commission. He was so frightfully cold-blooded, and toyed with a stiletto of razor-like sharpness so carelessly that I was truly terrified.
"Don't cry, Gypsy," he said. "War is a terrible thing, but we will beat those Yankee pigs yet." This, of course, was before peace was declared.
The remark nerved me up again. He believed in me, and that was half the battle.
"Oh, I hope so, General," I sobbed. "But how? Poor old Spain has nothing to fight with."
"Spain has me, señorita!" he cried, passionately. "And I single-handed will give them battle."
"But you do not know the country, General," said I. "Don't risk your life, I beg of you—our only hope! I haven't a doubt that in a fight with pigs you will win; but, General, the United States is so vast, so complicated; it is full of pitfalls!"
I could see that I had him worked up.
