Some one recognised him, and during
one of the many pauses of this not very systematic and furious battle
some one cheered the little don. The cheer was taken up vociferously. It
boomed across the battlefield. A moment later a man came dashing across
with a flag of truce: the cheering was supposed by the enemy to herald
the advance of reinforcements. The truce was accepted without
explanations, and Roldan was hurried into the presence of Alvarado. That
famous governor was sitting on a magnificent charger, caparisoned with
carved leather, red velvet, silver, and gold. His black eyes were
smiling, although the rest of his pale stern face was composed.
"So this is the runaway," he said. "I demanded you from your father, and
he was much embarrassed to confess that you had fled to escape the
conscription. Well, I am glad you did, for you have saved the day for
me. But it is time you were in Monterey, for you've got the face of the
leader of men, and the sooner your education begins the better. Will you
come with me? Your father will not refuse."
The blood was pounding in Roldan's ears, but he managed to reply calmly
that he would go.
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