"Adrian, what do you mean?" asked Inez in excitement. "It was about the time that--"
"McTurpin left," responded Stanley. "I've heard more than a whisper of his possible connection with the disappearance. McTurpin didn't leave alone. He rounded up half a dozen rough-looking fellows and they rode out of town together."
There was a silence. Then Benito spoke. "We haven't seen the last of him, I fear."
CHAPTER XII
THE NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS
It was almost a month later that Inez galloped home from San Francisco with a precious missive from the absent brother. They had outfitted at Johnson's ranch near Sacramento and, encountered the first expedition returning with twenty-two starved wretches from the Donner Camp. Many women and children still remained there.
"We started on the day which is a gringo fete because it is the natal anniversary of the great George Washington," Benito's chronicle concluded. "May it prove a good omen, and may we bring freedom, life to the poor souls engulfed by the snowdrifts. I kiss your hands. BENITO."
A fortnight passed before there came another letter. The second relief party had reached Donner Camp without mishap but, with seventeen survivors, had been storm-bound on a mountain summit and returned with but eleven of the rescued after frightful hardship. Benito was recuperating in a Sacramento hospital from frozen feet.