a mile," replied the man, sullenly.

"What is the name of your captain?"

"El Tigre," was the answer, and the fellow shivered as he mentioned that
redoubtable flame.

"How many men has he with him?" was the next question.

The bandit did not know exactly. There had been fifty or more, but a
dozen or so had been sent on an expedition late last night. Maybe there
were thirty or forty there now. He could not tell for sure.

The knife pricked sharply, and the fellow went down on his knees in an
agony of terror, and swore by all his saints that he was telling all he
knew. Why should he lie to the senor? The senor might kill him, but
what he was saying was the truth.

"Get up," said Melton, disgustedly, for the cowardice of the cringing
creature sickened him. "Now tell me what captives were in the camp and
what your chief intends to do with them."

There were two captives there just now. One of them was a Chinaman, who
had been taken in a raid on a hacienda, down in the valley. The other
was an Americano, who had been surprised yesterday, when he came upon the
band, just as they were getting ready to go away into the mountains.
Three days ago there had been seven prisoners, but now--. The rascal
made an expressive gesture that told only too clearly what had become of
the miserable seven, and Melton had need of all his self-control not to
end his prisoner's worthless life then and there, while Bert and Tom grew
pale as they thought of Dick.

By an effort they restrained themselves, and the questioning went on.
The bandit did not know what his chief intended to do. He rather thought
that very morning the Chinaman would be put out of the way. But the
young Americano, so cool, so brave--he did not know. El Tigre had
seemed to be puzzled about him. The chief had been drinking hard and
was very ugly. Yes, that was all he knew, and if the senor were to kill
him, he swore on the head of his father that he had told nothing but the
truth.

At a sign from Melton, the boys replaced the gag. They had drained him
dry of information, and now they knew the work that was cut out for them.
They dragged him into the thick underbrush and tied him to a tree. Then
with a parting prick from the bowie, and a threat of instant death, if he
sought to release himself before their return, they braced themselves for
the task before them.

"It's up to us, my lads," said Melton, as he carefully examined his
weapons to see that