"Can I do anything for you, Señora?"
"Dr. Bryant, will you leave your people here to see a dying Mexican--one who fell fighting against you?"
"Most assuredly, if I can render relief; but, Inez, you should not have ventured here on such an errand; could no messenger be found? It was imprudent in you to come at this hour."
"No matter; I felt no fear of your people, and mine would not molest me. But I have little time to wait. Mañuel is sorely wounded: we bore him from the Alamo, and he lies at my father's. Can you do nothing for him?"
"I hope it is not too late to render assistance; we will go immediately." And drawing his cloak over the wounded arm, he followed her to Don Garcia's. Neither spoke till they reached the threshold; then Frank said: "Inez, does Mañuel know you came for me?"
"Yes; he objected at first, but as the pain grew more acute, he begged us to do something for him. I told him there was none to help save you. He frowned a little, but nodded his head, and then I lost no time."
They entered the apartment of the sufferer, and Inez started at the change which had taken place during her temporary absence. Mañuel feebly turned his head as the door opened, and his eyes brightened as they rested on Inez. He motioned her to sit beside him, and she complied, lifting his head and carefully leaning it upon her bosom. Dr. Bryant examined the wound, felt the pulse, and stooping over him, asked: "Nevarro, do you suffer much?"
Mañuel laid his hand on the bleeding side, and feebly inclined his head.
"Inez, I can only use one hand, will you assist me in binding this wound?"
She attempted to rise, but Nevarro clutched her hand and gasped--"Too late--too late!"
Resolved to do something, if possible, for his relief, Frank beckoned to the Don, who stood near, and with some difficulty they succeeded in passing a bandage round the mouth of the wound. The groans of the dying man caused even the cheek of the fearless Inez to blanch. She who scorned danger, and knew not fear, could not witness with out a pang the sufferings of another. She moaned in very sympathy, and stroked gently back the straight raven hair, now clotted with blood. The exertion necessarily made proved fatal; the breathing grew short and painful, the pulse slow and feeble. Appealing was the look which the wounded one bent on Inez: he strove to utter his wishes, but, alas, it was indeed too late. The blood gushed anew from his side, crimsoning bandage and couch, and dyeing Inez's dress. Dr. Bryant took one of the cold hands and pressed it kindly. Mañuel opened his eyes, and looked gratefully on one who had at least endeavored to relieve him. Convulsively the fingers closed over his physician's hand; again he turned his face to Inez, and with a groan expired.