"Here—the light!" commanded Duero, gruffly, and took it without ceremony from the _veedor’s_ hand, bending over the girl in scrutiny. Rogelio hovered about, twisting his fat fingers, and straining to have a look at the pale, drawn face almost hidden by her disordered tresses. It was a face to move the compassion of a savage. The rough soldier felt its pathos, for he straightened up and said brusquely:—
"She needeth looking after, ’t is a certainty. Fetch a woman at once, Señor _Veedor_."
"A woman!" piped Rogelio. "Why, there’s no woman about. I have spoken for one, and may have her to-morrow."
"No woman about!" exclaimed Duero, turning upon him sternly. "Do you say there is none to give this girl the care she needeth?"
"To-morrow!—To-night! This night, _Veedor_, or she goeth to Xauxa." Duero’s black eyes travelled over Rogelio with an expression the latter did not care to meet.
"To-night! Impossible, Duero!" he whined. "There is not a woman in the fortress save two just come from San Miguel, and they—" He shook his head.
"Then, Señor, you will fetch one from Xauxa," said Duero, with determination.
"Curse me if I will!" retorted the _veedor_, angrily. "And look thou, Duero: this is mine affair. Thy part in it is done. Thou’lt refrain from meddling."
Duero motioned his companions forward, and stepped to raise the Ñusta. At the move Rogelio forgot himself and sprang forward with a snarl and curse to interpose, but recollected himself at once when Duero, dagger half-drawn, thrust an elbow beneath his chin and met his eyes with a scowl so malevolent that he caught breath with a sudden weakening of his knees. As the _veedor_ retreated with a gasp Duero followed him steadily with his glare, then turned again with deliberation to the couch. The _veedor_ raised a shaking hand to his throat as if he expected to find it already cut, and quavered:—
"My—my soul—and body, Duero! Thou’rt sudden! Wait! I—fiends and goblins!—I’ll go if it will please thee."
"It will," said Duero, briefly. "See that you do. We will tarry until your return. But first, a small cup of _chicha_. We must warm her blood, or your woman will find a corpse. Do you hear, _Veedor_? A cup of _chicha_!"
The _veedor_ started painfully and waddled away. He was back in a moment with the liquor. The soldier forced a few drops between the pallid lips of the Ñusta, and vigorously chafed her hands and arms. A fierce, unprincipled rascal in most respects, he was endowed with a rough warmth of heart to which the helpless state of his captive made silent appeal. He worked with what gentleness was in him, and when at last Rava opened her pathetic eyes he motioned his companions out of the room with the _hamaca_. Rogelio lingered near, but a gesture from Duero and the menace in his eyes sent him back into the shadow, whispering a futile anathema. When the unhappy girl revived somewhat the soldier drew a robe over her, and leaving her sobbing desolately among the pillows, gripped Rogelio’s arm and led him out. He locked the door, and to the _veedor’s_ astonishment and rage, pocketed the key. The other commenced a shrill expostulation, but the burly Duero merely hunched a shoulder at him with chin thrust out and a sidelong glance of quiet viciousness that stopped his railing abruptly. Rogelio led the way to his room with no further word, followed by his four sullen hirelings.