Sandoval was still
in his quarters. His arms had been taken away but he suffered no ill
treatment. Despite the rapid flight of the Mexican soldiers twenty-five
or thirty had been taken and they were held outside. The Texans not
knowing what to do with them decided to release them later on parole.
Ned was about to leave Sandoval's room when he met at the door a young
man, perspiring, wild of eye and bearing all the other signs of haste
and excitement. It was Francisco Urrea.
"I am too late!" he cried. "Alas! Alas! I would have had a share in this
glorious combat! I should like to have taken Sandoval with my own hand!
I have cause to hate that man!"
Sandoval was sitting on the edge of his bed, and the eyes of the two
Mexicans flashed anger at each other, Urrea went up, and shook his hand
in the face of Sandoval. Sandoval shook his in the face of Urrea. Wrath
was equal between them. Fierce words were exchanged with such swiftness
that Ned could not understand them. He judged that the young Mexican
must have some deep cause for hatred of Sandoval. But the Ring Tailed
Panther interfered. He did not like this trait of abusing a fallen foe
which he considered typically Mexican.
"Come away, Don Francisco," he said.
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