Don Ramón! He will die.”
A terrified boy and a woman appeared from the kitchen quarters. The door was opened, just as six horse-soldiers galloped into the courtyard. The officer leaped from his horse and ran like a hare, his revolver drawn, his spurs flashing, straight through the doors and up the stairs, like a madman. When Kate got up the stairs again, the officer was standing with drawn revolver, gazing down at Ramón.
“He is dead?” he said, stupefied, looking at Kate.
“No!” she said. “It is only loss of blood.”
The officers lifted Ramón and laid him on the terrace. Then quickly they got off his blouse. The wound was bleeding thickly in the back.
“We’ve got to stop this wound,” said the lieutenant. “Where is Pablo?”
Instantly there was a cry for Pablo.
Kate ran