"Bravo, Señor Strawbridge!" he shouted joyfully. "I have heard how you stopped a panic and headed a cavalry charge against the ambuscade on the roofs. Mire, mis bravos! There stands the man who won the battle of San Geronimo!"
Under his violent revulsion, the drummer could scarcely breathe. He gaped and stared.
"What! What! Are those our troops! My God! I thought you were all dead—executed. I thought I saw poor Rosales facing a firing-squad!"
Saturnino lost his ebullience.
"You mean at the end of the playa?"
"Yes."
"That was Rosales. When his forces gained the casa fuerte by a most gallant charge from the flank, he then tried to hold the fort against my own troops." Saturnino's voice took a metallic tang: "I had to win the stronghold by fighting half my own troops. That young whelp's insurrection almost frustrated my plans."
Strawbridge was dumbfounded.
"You mean ... he deserted you in battle?... turned on you in the midst of battle?"