CHAPTER VII
A GUERILLA BROUGHT TO TERMS
"Drop that pistol!"
The order, delivered in broken Spanish, came as a thunderclap out of a clear sky to the man who was threatening the woman with the weapon. He gave an ejaculation of astonishment, then turned swiftly toward the doorway, which was now wide open. When he saw Ben standing there, with pistol drawn, and backed up by two soldiers with levelled rifles, his face fell and paled.
"What—what brings you?" he stammered in his native tongue.
"Do you talk English?" demanded Ben. He never spoke anything else unless it was absolutely necessary.
"A leetle, señor, a verra leetle."
"What do you mean by threatening this woman in this fashion?"
"She—ah—she is a verra wicked woman."
"She doesn't look half as wicked as you."
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