his very grasp?

There was but one course for him to pursue. He would have to abandon the
attempt to climb with the assistance of both walls; he must take to one
wall and make his way up that in some manner.

A little light came down to him from the opening, enabling him to choose
the holds for his feet and hands.

At last he came to another ledge, where he lay at full length and
rested, although the fear of slipping from it and falling back through
that fissure into the heart of the mountain caused him to suffer
intense torture. His fancy led him to imagine himself slipping, sliding,
falling, seeking to grasp the walls with his torn hands, but failing
utterly and dropping at last into the cave, where he found the dead man
laughing at him.

Above the ledge at that point he could creep no farther. He aroused
himself and crawled slowly along it. It led him out to a place where the
light shone in and the cleft was wide above his head.

"Almost free!" he panted.

Had it not been for his life that he was struggling he could never have
made that last ascent. In some mysterious manner he accomplished it,
dragging himself at last by the aid of some bushes on the brink over the
edge and dropping unconscious on the rocky mountain side.

In a little time the air revived him. He lifted his head and looked
around. A cry of joy burst from his lips, and he managed to stagger to
his feet. Around him on every side lay the beautiful world, the
mountains, the autumn-tinted woods and the blue lakes. Above him was the
sapphire sky and the gloriously golden sun, for the night had passed and
another day was well advanced. He drew in deep breaths of the clear,
sweet air, and his blood leaped in his veins.

Yet a marvelous change had taken place. At the time when he entered that
cave his hair was as black as a raven's wing; now his face was like
that of an old man, and his hair was snowy white!

"Free!" he cried. "I have escaped! But how I have suffered! That dog of
a gringo, Frank Merriwell, caused it all! He thinks me dead and out of
his path forever. I am alive, and I swear to make Merriwell suffer even
as I have suffered! I'll not kill him at one blow, but I'll rob him of
all he holds dear, his sweetheart, his beauty, his strength, his wealth,
and then I will find a way to destroy him at last!

"This is the oath of Porfias del Norte!"

CHAPTER XIII.

HOW RAILROADS ARE BUILT.

Four men of great power and influence in