hsome form was beckoning. His brain reeled, but, by a
tremendous effort, he steeled himself to meet his fate. He would--

"Dick!"

What was that?

"Dick!"

Was that Bert's voice, or was he going insane? "Don't move, old man,"
came a whisper from behind the tree. "It's Bert. I've cut the rope that
holds you until it hangs by a thread. The least movement will snap it.
Let your hand hang down, and I'll slip you a revolver. Jump, when you
get the word. We're going to rush the camp."

The reaction from despair to hope was so violent, that Dick could
scarcely hold the weapon that was thrust into his hand. But as he felt
the cold steel, his grip tightened on the stock, and he was himself
again. Now at least he had a chance to fight for his life.

The snake was getting nearer to its victim's face. The last spring had
all but grazed it. All eyes were fixed upon it, as it coiled again. Its
waving head stood high above its folds, as it prepared to launch itself.
And just then a bowie knife whizzed through the air and sliced its head
from its body. The next instant, a rain of bullets swept the clearing,
and Melton, Bert, and Tom burst from the woods, firing as they came.

CHAPTER VI

THE EXECUTION OF EL TIGRE

With a quick jerk, Dick snapped the rope that held him and rushed toward
his comrades. He ranged himself alongside, and his revolver barked in
unison with theirs.

The surprise had been complete. At the first shot, the bandits had
leaped to their feet, and with wild yells scattered in every direction.
Most of them had left their arms in their tents, and had nothing but
their knives to defend them from attack. And these were wholly
insufficient weapons, with which to meet the little band that flung
themselves so recklessly upon them. For all they knew, they might be the
vanguard of a force many times stronger, and they fled in wild confusion.

The guerilla chief was the only one who kept his head. He drew a
revolver from his belt and returned shot for shot. He backed up slowly
in the direction of his hut. With his eyes on the enemy in front, he had
forgotten that the second snake was right behind him. He slipped on the
slimy folds, and, the next instant, the enraged reptile struck at one of
his hands as he attempted to rise. A burning pain shot through his index
finger. He shook off the clinging snake, and, jumping upon it, stamped
its head into pulp. Then he drew his knife and sla