He sighed. Ah, merciful Sun!—most beneficent Inti! She stifled her sobs and brushed away her tears that she might see. His eyelids trembled, and now a moan, most faint, barely audible, but—he lived! More water, and more, and when she came again his eyes were open, blankly at the sky at first, then at her. She wept for joy, pressing his hands to her bosom, while he regarded her vaguely, striving to arrange his muddled thoughts.
"Courage!" murmured Cristoval, and closed his eyes again, to be startled to his senses by a shriek from the girl. De Valera had moved, and was feebly groaning. Cristoval turned his head at the sound, and the sight of his fallen enemy aroused him.
"_Cielo!_" he gasped. "He had slipped my mind." He crawled to the trooper, found his dagger, and tossed it out of reach. De Valera moved again, but Cristoval rose unsteadily and seated himself upon his adversary’s chest. "Water, _carita_!" he whispered, and bowed his reeling head upon his hands. Rava brought her hands full and dashed it into his face. "Ah! _Bueno_!" he muttered, and looked down upon De Valera. The visor of the helmet was thrown back, and the prostrate soldier was staring up at him. Cristoval glowered, rubbing an aching head, and the two Spaniards regarded one another for a time in silence, neither in full possession of his faculties. At last De Valera moaned faintly, "Mercy, Cristoval!"
Cristoval made no reply, scowling blackly at the pallid face and wiping away the blood which still trickled into his own eyes from the gash in his forehead.
"Mercy, Cristoval! Give me time for a prayer."
The words brought Cristoval more fully to consciousness, and he replied, angrily: "Time for a prayer! Time for a prayer! What dost think?—that I will murder thee, lying on thy back and hands down? If thou hast the thought, dismiss it, or I’ll have it out of thee roughly."
The soldier faltered weakly: "What! Thou wilt spare me, good Cristoval? Oh, blessed Virgin!" and tears of gratitude filled his eyes. "But I might have known it of thee, Cristoval."
"Ah!" replied Cristoval, scornfully. "But see thou liest still, lest I lose the whim." He rubbed his head again, struggling to order his thoughts. De Valera lay motionless, and at length Cristoval said sternly:—