To Gale she was wonderful. His heart
leaped. As he bent over her hands and kissed them he seemed to
feel himself renewed, remade.
"Senorita," he said, "I am happy to be your servant. I can conceive
of no greater pleasure than giving the service you require."
"And what is that?" inquired Thorne, hurriedly.
"That of incapacitating Senor Rojas for to-night, and perhaps
several nights to come," replied Gale.
"Dick, what will you do?" asked Thorne, now in alarm.
"I'll make a row in that saloon," returned Dick, bluntly. "I'll
start something. I'll rush Rojas and his crowd. I'll--"
"Lord, no; you mustn't, Dick--you'll be knifed!" cried Thorne.
He was in distress, yet his eyes were shining.
"I'll take a chance. Maybe I can surprise that slow Greaser bunch
and get away before they know what's happened....You be ready
watching at the window. When the row starts those fellows out
there in the plaza will run into the saloon. Then you slip out,
go straight through the plaza down the street. It's a dark street,
I remember. I'll catch up with you before you get far."
Thorne gasped, but did not say a word. Mercedes leaned against
him, her white hands now at her breast, her great eyes watching
Gale as he went out.
In the corridor Gale stopped long enough to pull on a pair of heavy
gloves, to muss his hair, and disarrange his collar. Then he stepped
into the restaurant, went through, and halted in the door leading
into the saloon.
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