n you were carried off, she came to me, and I
promised if it were possible to bring you back with me."

"Then you do not believe the story you heard to-day, about--about--"

"My father? Yes, I believe it; but that is no reason why I should be
unkind to Rosa. Poor girl! 'twill be hard enough for her to lose you."

"Is there no way of escape?"

I shook my head. "An armed sentry stands outside; a hundred soldiers
are in the ravine; the path is closely watched. I would help you if it
were possible."

"It will be dark to-night."

"That would help us little. Even if you escaped from the hut, you
would be challenged at every dozen yards. No, I can see no way out."

I think that at this time he began to fully realize the danger he was
in. He had a hunted look in his eyes, and again the perspiration stood
on his forehead. Fear was fast killing shame, and he seemed to care
nothing that I was the son of the man whom he had tried to murder.

"Juan," said he, "can't you make an excuse to visit me after dark?"

"I should think so," I replied.

"And will you cut these cords?"

"If you think it will help you at all."

"Leave that to me," said he, speaking almost hopefully. "By St.
Philip, I shall escape the ruffian yet!"

What his plan was he did not tell me, but it seemed to please him
greatly. He even laughed when I again mentioned Rosa, and said he
would carry his message himself. And with hope there came back to him
something of the old cunning and smoothness of speech for which he was
so noted.

"I am sorry you were misled by that preposterous tale," said he softly.
"Pardo Lurena is a villain, but we will unmask him. Of course, there
was a little truth in his story, but so twisted and distorted that it
could not be recognized. Your father will understand, however, and
even you will come to see that I am not greatly to blame. A little
thoughtlessness, Juan, and a desire to help a friend--no more; but that
can wait. You will be sure to come, Juan; you will not fail me?"

"I will do my very best, Don Felipe, for your daughter's sake."

Wishing him farewell, I returned to the chief's hut. He was not there,
so I lay down to think out the situation; but my head was in a hopeless
muddle. I went into the ravine again, and, watching the soldiers,
wondered how the unhappy prisoner hoped to escape them.

As it chanced, his plan was doomed to disappointment. Toward the end
of the afternoon I stood chattin