"Please, Senorita," he pleaded, "stand firm. We are going to win.
Don't give in. The Mendozas are not the kind to stop defeated."
She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears.
"It was my father's way," she choked back her emotion. "How could
you, a stranger, know?"
"I didn't know," returned Kennedy. "I gathered it from his face.
It is also his daughter's way."
"Yes," she said, straightening up and the fire flashing from her
eyes, "we are a proud, old, unbending race. Good-bye. I must not
interrupt your work any longer. We are also a race that never
forgets a friend."
A moment later she was gone.
"A wonderful woman," repeated Kennedy absently.
Then he turned again to his table of chemicals.
The telephone had begun to tinkle almost continuously by this
time, as one after another of our friends called us up to know how
we were getting on and be assured of our safety. In fact I didn't
know that it was possible to resuscitate so many of them with a
pulmotor.
"By George, I'm glad it wasn't any more serious," came Norton's
voice from the doorway a moment later. "I didn't see a paper this
morning. The curator of the Museum just told me. How did it
happen?"
Kennedy tried to pass it off lightly, and I did the same, for as I
was up longer I really did feel better.
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