Of the others, one was a small boy, who stood manfully by his mother's side; while a little girl, burning with fever, lay tossing and moaning on the ground.
As Ridge reached this group the woman cried, imploringly, "Help, Senor Americano! For love of the good God help me reach the city before my little ones perish!" Ridge could understand and could talk to her in her own tongue.

So in a few minutes he had learned her pitiful story.

It was that of many another--a tale of starvation, sickness, death of her husband, and of homeless wandering for days.

Now her one desire and hope was to return to her home in Santiago.

Even before she had concluded her sad narration our young trooper had picked up the fever-stricken child, and, with the others following him, was retracing his steps towards the city.