Jose, and spent the entire day among the crags and canyons? The
man on the floor seemed a trick of the imagination, or, at least, a
case of mistaken identity.

Nestor did not believe that Lieutenant Gordon would release the fellow
under any circumstances. There was some mystery about his appearance
there that could only be solved by the man himself, and so such
restoratives as the Boy Scouts carried in their camping outfits were
hastily brought forth.

There were bandages and a small flask of brandy which had formed a part
of many an outfit and had never been uncorked, and these were soon on
the floor by the side of the sufferer. The injury proved to be a
compound fracture of the right leg, and Nestor shook his head gravely
as he inspected it. Little could be done save to force the shattered
bones back into place and bind the whole up firmly.

The acute pain of the operation and the stimulating drink that was
given him caused Scoby to open his eyes and, screaming with the agony
of the injury, look about the room. His pale features contorted with
rage or some other strong emotion, as he looked upon the renegade. Big
Bob eyed the fellow malevolently.

"You chaps appear to know each other pretty well," Nestor said,
glancing from one to the other. "It would be interesting to know where
and when, and under what circumstances, you last met."

The wounded men glared at each other but made no reply. Big Bob then
turned his head away with an exclamation of rage. Scoby pointed to the
brandy bottle and moved his white lips. Frank, who held the stimulant,
asked a question with his eyes.

"Yes," Nestor said, "give him a stiff dose. He is about all in."

The drink was taken greedily, and in a few moments the fellow appeared
to be gaining temporary strength. Then Nestor asked:

"Where are Don Miguel and Felix?"

"I know nothing about the foxy guy," growled the watchman.

"Then where is the Mexican?" was the next question.

Scoby fixed his gaze on the brandy flask longingly, and Nestor saw that
he was bargaining for another drink of the liquid.

"Very well," he said. "Tell me what I want to know, and you shall have
more."

"What do you want to know?" growled Scoby.

"How did you manage to escape from the secret service men?"

"We, Felix and I, got away while they were arranging for a boat to
cross to San Jose. They chased us up the slope and fired at us, but
there were so many men in the hills that they d