spar, "if
it were not for your devil of a physiognomy."

"Never mind that. I shall alter it to suit the occasion. You shall
see. All I ask is, that if I extricate the Colonel from his present
dilemma, I am to have a reward of a thousand dollars. I risk my life
for it; and the sum would be only a fair one. I shall take fifty men,
and deliver him from danger. As to your message, he will pay for that
separately, and you may have all the bounty to yourself."

"It would be a great stroke of business, if we could so manage it,"
assented Gaspar.

"You see, after all," philosophically remarked the ex-bandit, "that
honesty is the best policy."

"But suppose the Colonel should be taken prisoner, or killed?" suggested
Gaspar.

"We must take the chance of that. If he be, we shall endeavour to
capture Arroyo. In either case, I ought to have a reward; and, cost
what it will, I mean to try for one."

"It is possible," again suggested Gaspar, "the Colonel may be able to
reach the bamboo brake on the river bank. If so, we might still be in
time to save him."

"In less than two hours we can get back here with the men to rescue him.
They can easily make a sortie from Del Valle, now that nearly all the
others are scouring the forest. Quick, then, let us make for the
hacienda."

Excited by the hope of being able to accomplish their design, the two
adventurers started off, gliding through the thicket as rapidly as they
could make their way in the direction of the hacienda Del Valle.

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO.

ESCAPING THE TOILS.

Left to himself, Don Rafael calmly considered the circumstances that
surrounded him. He could not help feeling a conviction that his chances
of escape were of the most doubtful kind; and that, unless some
unforeseen accident should favour him, he had but a very poor prospect
of being able to extricate himself from the danger that threatened.
Such an accident he had no reason to expect.

The sun was now high in the heavens, and his bright beams penetrating
through the foliage, illuminated even the darkest labyrinths of the
forest. It would be eight or nine hours before he would set again; for
it was near the summer solstice, when the days of the year are longest.
Don Rafael now regretted having slept so long. Had he awoke before
sunrise, there might still have been time to have secured his retreat.
He further regretted not having declared his name and rank to the two
men who had just parte