a ship that burns. Ay, yi! Ay, yi! and she so pretty before! A-y,
y-i!--" Her head fell forward; she relapsed into stupor.

Estenega rode around to the window again. The girl was sitting on the
edge of the bed, mechanically pulling the long matted strands of her
hair.

"Water! water!" she cried, faintly. "Ay, Mary!" She strove to rise,
but fell back, clutching at the bedclothing.

Estenega rode to a deserted hut near by, concealed his saddle in
a corner under a heap of rubbish, and turned his horse loose. He
returned to the hut where the sick girl lay, and entered the room. She
recognized him in spite of her fever.

"Don Diego! Is it you?--you?" she said, half raising herself. "Ay,
Mary! is it the delirium?"

"It is I," he said. "I will take care of you. Do you want water?"

"Ay, water. Ay, thou wert always kind, even though thy love did last
so little a while."

He brought the water and did what he could to relieve her sufferings:
like all the rancheros, he had some knowledge of medicine. He held the
old crone under the pump, gave her an emetic, broke her bottle, and
ordered her to help him care for the girl. Between awe of him and
promise of gold, she gave him some assistance.

Estenega watched the vessel sail the next morning, and battled with