es," he said, "are my friends, Hugo Choteau and Victor
Doubet, who, but a few moments since, saved me from death."

Georges' only reply was a grunt. Plainly he was little interested in the
newcomers, as long as they were vouched for by Jean, and he showed no
interest in Jean's recent escape from death. Apparently this was no
novelty. He resumed his seat at the table, and putting up his feet and
drawing his hat even farther over his face, lighted a cigarette and
settled himself in comfort and closed his eyes.

Now that he had piloted them to safety Jean took no further thought of
the boys, but himself dropped into a chair, propped his feet up, lighted
a cigarette and followed Georges' example.

Hal and Chester also sank into chairs and did likewise, both, however,
keeping one eye open.

Directly Jean sat up and from his pocket produced a pack of cigarettes,
which he extended to Hal.

"Smoke?" he said laconically.

Hal was in a quandary. He was not a smoker himself, yet he realized that
the Paris Apache who was not a victim of nicotine was indeed a scarce
article. But he muttered to himself, as he selected a cigarette and
passed the pack on to Chester:

"Here is where smoking a cigarette may save our lives."

Chester's mind followed along on this course, and, after passing the pack
back to Jean, and accepting a match, both lads lighted up in most
approved fashion.

The wants of his guests thus attended to, Jean left them to their own
thoughts, and gave them no further notice.

The Apache is not a talkative man, and therefore there was not the sound
of a human voice to break the death-like stillness of the foul-smelling
den. For perhaps an hour and a half all sat without so much as moving.

Suddenly the stillness was shattered by a resounding knock on the door by
which the lads had so recently entered--three light taps, followed by a
single loud tap. Immediately Georges was upon his feet again, and
unlocked and unbarred the door and peered out. Then he threw wide the
door and another man entered the room.

Now there was something in the appearance of this newcomer that set him
somewhat apart from the other inmates of the den, and when he spoke his
tones were much softer than the voices of the true Apache; but it carried
an evil ring.

"The chief will be here within the hour," he said to Georges. "He desires
that you have all here before he arrives."

"It shall be done," replied Georges, eying the newcomer