n. A moment later, from
the same source, came an expression that numbed him with the awfulness
of its possible meaning. "To be shot at sunrise? Poor fellow!" Could
he be the "poor fellow" meant? Of course not; but then he might be.
Such a summary disposition of prisoners was not unknown to Spanish
jailers.

While his mind was busy with this startling question the laughing
voice, now lowered almost to a whisper, approached his door, and he
became conscious of a scrutiny through the grating. Also a discussion
was going on outside, and he heard:

"No, no, not a smile, not a word, unless you open the door so that I
may see el Yanko. I have never seen one in all my life--never."

A short pause, then a key turned, and the door was gently opened. Two
figures entered. A soldier and a slender girl, who clung fearfully to
his arm. They stood and looked at Ridge as he sat on his wooden stool,
and he stared back. For a moment the three gazed at one another in
silence.

Then the girl exclaimed, pettishly:

"If that is all your famous Yanko amounts to, I have already seen
enough, since he looks exactly like other men, only more ugly than
some. Come, let us go."

With this she playfully turned her companion about and pushed him from
the cell. As she did so she made a quick backward movement with her
right hand, and something fell on the straw pallet as though flung
there. A second later the door was relocked, and, with merry laughter
again echoing through the dim corridor, they were gone.

Curiously Ridge fumbled in the musty bedding until he found a small
packet enveloped in brown paper. He opened it eagerly. Inside were
two tiny steel saws, made from a watch spring, and a little tube of
oil. There was also a bit of white paper on which was writing. By
holding this close to the lamp-lighted grating. Ridge read:

"You have only till daylight. Saw out a bar and squeeze through.
Friends will await you outside. Destroy this." There was no signature.

"What friends can I have in this place?" thought the young trooper, as
he nervously chewed the bit of paper to a pulp. At the same time he
was tremulous with a new hope. "Perhaps I can do it," he said, "and
anything will be better than sitting in idleness, with a prospect of
being shot at sunrise."

Standing on his wooden stool he could easily reach the lower end of the
iron bars closing the cell window, and he at once began work on them.
At first he seem