o
doubt, in selfishness and cruelty."

On arriving at the hut or small farm at the head of the valley, they
found its owner, a burly, good-humoured Creole, alone with his mother,
an old woman whose shrivelled-up appearance suggested the idea of a
mummy partially thawed into life. She was busy cooking over a small
fire, the smoke of which seemed congenial to her--judging from the
frequency with which she thrust her old head into it while inspecting
the contents of an iron pot.

There was plenty of room for them, the host said, with an air of
profound respect for Pedro, whom he saluted as an old acquaintance. The
house had been full two days before, but the travellers had gone on, and
the only one who remained was a poor man who lay in an out-house very
sick.

"Who is he?" asked Pedro, as he assisted Manuela to alight.

"I know not, senhor," replied the host. "He is a stranger, who tells me
he has been robbed. I can well believe it, for he has been roughly
handled, and there are some well-known bandits in the neighbourhood.
His injuries would not have been so serious, however, if he had not
caught a fever from exposure."

"Indeed," returned the guide, who, however, seemed more interested in
unsaddling his mules than in listening to the account of the unfortunate
man, "was it near this that he fell in with the bandits?"

"No, senhor, it was far to the west. The travellers who brought him on
said they found him almost insensible on the banks of a stream into
which he appeared to have fallen or been thrown."

Pedro glanced at Lawrence.

"Hear you that, senhor?"

"My Spanish only suffices to inform me that some one has been robbed and
injured."

Explaining fully what their host had said, Pedro advised Lawrence to
visit the stranger in his medical character.

"My friend is a doctor," he said, turning to the host, "take him to the
sick man; for myself, I will put up the mules and then assist the old
mother, for mountain air sharpens appetite."

In a rude, tumble-down hut close to the main building Lawrence found his
patient. He lay stretched in a corner on a heap of straw in a state of
great exhaustion--apparently dying--and with several bandages about his
cut and bruised head and face.

The first glance told Lawrence that it was Antonio, the robber whom he
had tried to rescue, but he carefully concealed his knowledge, and,
bending over the man, addressed him as if he were a stranger. The start
and look