"
The doctor was trembling with grief and anger, and he felt
Antonia's hand on his shoulder.
"My friend," he whispered, "did you know JOHN WORTH?"
"Who did not know him in Fannin's camp? Any of us would have
been glad to save poor Jack; and he had a friend who refused
to live without him."
"Dare Grant?"
"That was the man, young lady. Grant was a doctor, and the
Mexicans wanted doctors. They offered him his life for his
services, but he would not have it unless his friend's life
also was spared. They were shot holding each other's hands,
and fell together. I was watching their faces at the moment.
There wasn't a bit of fear in them."
The Senora rose, and came as swiftly as a spirit to them. She
looked like a woman walking in her sleep. She touched the
stranger. "I heard you. You saw Dare Grant die. But my boy!
My boy! Where is my Juan?"
"Maria, darling."
"Don't speak, Roberto. Where is my Juan? Juan Worth?"
"Madam. I am sorry enough, God knows. Juan Worth--was shot."
Then the wretched mother threw up her hands, and with an
awful cry fell to the ground. It was hours ere she recovered
consciousness, and consciousness only restored her to misery.
The distress of the father, the brother and sisters of the
dead youth was submerged in the speechless despair of the
mother.
Pages:
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284