father. He jerked his shoulder, his nostrils twitched in a sneer, a smile parted his heavy, petulant lips.
"A man must be valiant and vigorous for such an undertaking, Gabriel," Don Abrahan said with sinister gentleness, that light of laughter that was not yet a laugh lying deep in his eyes. "There is a process for hardening a man for a task like that, of testing the sufficiency of his fortitude and valor. We shall come to this. Simon, you have done well; you shall have your reward. Take the ropes from this pig that you have brought me."
Simon, who had disdained to set foot on the ground until this moment, flung himself from the saddle and set about undoing the rope that bound Henderson's feet.
"Soldiers!" Simon scoffed, bending at his task; "five of them to kill one old Yankee! And I, myself, have caught a better one, with not even the shadow of a pistol at my side."
"You have done well," Don Abrahan assured him. "Santana's army has no braver man."
Henderson's legs were stiff; he staggered when he came to the ground. Don Abrahan looked at him critically, that reflection of inner laughter deepening in his eyes.
"General, permit me the services of two soldiers with strong arms," he requested. "There is too much insolent blood in this young man; some of it must be let out through the skin of his back."
"With great pleasure, Don Abrahan," the gen-
