I had not even the merit of summoning the medics. On hearing her voice he had stopped and turned round, his attendants imitating his example. The eyes of all were concentrated on the Jarocha.
“Señorita,” said the surgeon, stepping towards the tent and modestly raising his sombrero as he spoke, “so fair a flower is not often found growing upon the ensanguined field of battle. If I have overheard you aright, it is your wish I should see some one who is wounded—some one dear to you, no doubt?”
“My brother, sir.”
“Ah! your brother,” said the Mexican, regarding the girl with a look that betokened a degree of surprise. “Where may I find him?”
“In the tent, señor. Calros, dear Calros! there is a medico, a real surgeon, coming to see you.”
And as the girl gave utterance to the words she stepped quickly inside the marquee, followed by the surgeon himself.