And where was she? He felt for her on the floor, but only touched the Mexican's feet. He had to lean across the seat where Moylan's body lay, shrouded in darkness, before his groping fingers came in contact with the skirt of her dress. She was on the front seat, close to the window; against the lightness of the outer sky, her head seemed lying upon the wooden frame. She did not move, he could not even tell that she breathed, and for an instant his dry lips failed him utterly, his blood seemed to stop. Good God! Had she been killed also? How, in Heaven's name, did she ever get there? Then suddenly she lifted her head slightly, brushing back her hair with one arm; the faint starlight gleamed on a short steel barrel. The Sergeant expelled his breath swiftly, wetting his dry lips.
"Are you hurt?" he questioned anxiously. "Lord, but you gave me a scare!"
She seemed to hear his voice, yet scarcely to understand, like one aroused suddenly from sleep.
"What! you spoke--then--then--there are others? I--I am not here all alone?"
"Not if you count me," he said, a trace of recklessness in the answer. "I have n't even a scratch so far as I know. Did they touch you?"
"No; that is, I am not quite sure; it--it was all so horrible I cannot remember. Who are you? Are you the--the soldier?"
"Yes--I 'm Hamlin. Would you mind telling me how you ever got over there?"
She straightened up, seemed to notice the heavy revolver in her fingers, and let it fall to the floor.
"Oh, it is like a dream--an awful dream. I could n't help myself. When the Mexican rolled off on to the floor, I knew he was dead, and--and there was his revolver held right out to me in his hand. Before I realized I had it, and was up here--I--I killed one--he--he fell in the wheel; I--I can never forget that!"
"Don't try," broke in Hamlin earnestly. "You 're all right," he added, admiration in his voice. "And so it was you there with the small gun. I heard it bark, but never knew Gonzales was hit. When did it happen?"
"When--when they fired first. It--it was all smoke out there when I got to the window; they--they looked like--like wild beasts, and it did n't seem to me I was myself at all."
The man laughed lightly.
"You did the right thing, that 's all," he consoled, anxious to control her excitement. "Now you and I must decide what to do next--we are all alone."
"Alone! Has Mr. Moylan been hit also?"