"I can't tell. Again you'll have to ask Ambrosio. It is he who
destroyed it."
"By George!" exclaimed Billie, "I knew I ought to have killed
that monk the first time I had any dealings with him. I'm sorry
now that I didn't."
"At any rate," declared Don Esteban, "I shall send for the box."
He turned to Santiago, who had fallen back upon his pillow, and
over whom the physician was bending and feeling his pulse.
"I shall send for it at once," he repeated.
Slowly the physician raised his head and loosed his hold upon the
sick man's wrist.
"It is too late," he said. "He will not need it. He is dead."
* * * * *
On board a returning army transport bound for New York stood the
Broncho Rider Boys casting their last glance shoreward as the sun
was setting behind the mountains that form the background of the
city of Vera Cruz. Over the city still waved the Stars and
Stripes, and as the darkness fell and the tip of Mt. Orizaba
gradually faded from sight, Billie turned to the others and in a
voice tinged with sadness remarked:
"There's only one thing about the whole country that I admire."
"What's, that?" asked Adrian. "Lucia?"
"No; it's the wholesome respect the Mexicans show for
Brigadier-General Funston.
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