It was just as well that her fright at the horrible touch of blood was not balanced by the saner knowledge that a ruptured vein was nature's own remedy for a man jarred into insensibility.

Long before Carmela reached the _finca_, San Benavides stirred, groaned, squirmed convulsively, and raised himself on hands and knees.

He turned, and sat down, feeling his head.
"The spit-fire!" he muttered.

"The she-devil! And that other! Would that I could wring _her_ neck!" A sputtering of rifles crackled in the valley.

There was a blurred clamor of voices.