“I swear by the saints he stood before me, watching you on the wall.”
“Take no oath by the saints until your head is better, sergeant mine, else you perjure yourself. There is no sight of the man in plaza or chapel—and the men guarding the church saw no one.”
“I tell you he was here! Dios! Cannot a man believe his own eyes?”
“’Twas your imagination. The blow caused you to see this Fly-by-Night along with stars and meteors.”
“I saw him——”
“Then you saw a ghost!” Gonzales declared. “Rest you easy, sergeant mine, and frighten us no more with old women’s tales of hostiles at our back.”
“I tell you——”
“Tell it to the ghost if he comes again!” Gonzales snorted; and hurried back to the wall, where the hostiles, beaten off again, were retreating to prepare for another assault.
Sergeant Cassara propped himself up against the wall of the storehouse and gazed into the darkness, half expecting the sound of a stealthy step near him. The weakness came again, and his head sank forward. He struggled in vain to keep his eyes open, keep his senses alert. And just before he lapsed into unconsciousness he gripped the hilt of his sword and moaned into the night:
“I shall go mad! By the saints! I shall go mad!”