e enough to soften Pacheco's heart--to save
my poor boy."

"And you failed?"

The old man groaned again.

"My boy is still in Pacheco's power, and I have not a dollar left in all
the world! Failed--miserably failed!"

"Well, what do you hope to do--what are you trying to do?"

"Raise five hundred dollars."

"How?"

"In any way."

"By begging?"

"I do not know how. Anyway, anyway will do!"

"But you cannot raise it by begging in this land, man," said the
professor. "This is a land of beggars. Everybody seems to be poor and
wretched."

"But I have found some of my own countrymen, and I hoped that you might
have pity on me--oh, I did hope!"

"What? You didn't expect us to give you five hundred dollars?"

"Think of my boy--my poor boy! Pacheco has threatened to murder him by
inches--to cut him up and send him to me in pieces! Is it not something
terrible to contemplate?"

"Vell, I should dink id vos!" gurgled the Dutch boy.

"But how did you lose your money?"

"I was robbed."

"By whom?"

"Pacheco."

"How did it happen?"

"I fell into his hands."

"And he took your money without setting your son free?"

"He did."

"Did you tell him it was all you had in the world?"

"I told him that a score of times."

"What did he say?"

"Told me to raise more, or have the pleasure of receiving my boy in
pieces."

"How long ago was that?"

"Three days."

"Near here?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been in Mendoza?"

"Two days, and during that time I have received this from Pacheco."

He took something from his pocket--something wrapped in a handkerchief.
With trembling fingers, he unrolled it, exposing to view----

A bloody human finger!

CHAPTER IV.

UNMASKED.

Hans and Professor Scotch uttered exclamations of horror, starting back
from the sight revealed by the light that came from the window set deep
in the adobe wall.

Frank's teeth came together with a peculiar click, but he uttered no
exclamation, nor did he start.

This seemed to affect the old man unpleasantly, for he turned on Frank,
crying in an accusing manner and tone:

"Have you no heart? Are you made of stone?"

"Hardly," was the reply.

"This finger--it is the second torn from the hand of my boy by Pacheco,
the bandit--Pacheco, the monster!"

"Pacheco seems to be a man of great determination."

Professor Scotch gazed at Frank in astonishment, for the boy was of a
very sympathetic and kindly nature, and he