"That will not be for a long time, and I do not think the Señor Coronel
would like--But when he returns he will see you, and then you can tell him
yourself."

"He is away from home, then?"

"The Señor Coronel has gone to London. He will be back to-morrow."

"Well, if I cannot thank him to-day, I can thank you. You are my nurse,
are you not?"

"A little--Geist and I, and Mees Tomleenson, we relieve each other. But
those two don't know much about wounds."

"And you do, I suppose?"

"_Hijo de Dios!_ Do I know much about wounds? I have nursed men who have
been cut to pieces. I have been cut to pieces myself. Look!"

And with that Ramon pointed to his neck, which was seamed all the way down
with a tremendous scar; then to his left hand, which was minus two
fingers; next to one of his arms, which appeared to have been plowed from
wrist to elbow with a bullet; and lastly to his head, which was almost
covered with cicatrices, great and small.

"And I have many more marks in other parts of my body, which it would not
be convenient to show you just now," he said, quietly.

"You are an old soldier, then, Ramon?"