Nestor gazed into the pain-drawn face of the newcomer with a feeling akin to awe. There seemed something uncanny in the fellow being there at all. Had there come some new and unexpected development, in consequence of which he had been released by the secret service men? Or had he managed to elude their vigilance? If the latter, had Don Miguel and Felix also gained their *******?
And how had the man succeeded in crossing the mountain in the weakened condition he was in? He was now so weak and faint from loss of blood and long suffering that he dropped to the floor like a dead man. Had he escaped, or been released soon after the departure of the party for San 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 did not care to follow us in.""And Don Miguel?"
"We left him with the officers. He would not even try to get away.""And why did your flight take this direction?" asked Nestor, glad that the diplomat was still in custody, where he would be obliged to give an account of his doings.
"We came to look for the mine," was the impatient reply.
"And you found it, and left Felix there?"
Scoby's haggard face again contorted with anger.
"There is no mine!" he almost shouted. "We have been on a fool errand! The map is a fake and a lie!"The boys glanced at each other and smiled triumphantly. Scoby caught the expression on their faces and dropped back hopelessly.
"And so you found it?" he said, consternation as well as inquiry in his voice.
"Never mind that now," Nestor replied. "Where is the Mexican?""Dead!" was the startling and unexpected reply.
"You quarreled, then?" asked Nestor.
"He fell over a cliff," was the reply. "I tried to save him, but he drew me over with him. I broke my leg and he broke his neck.
Give me the flask!"
