road and fled for their lives down the bed of
a little stream that crossed it at the foot of the hill. The wounded
man was despatched by del Concha where he lay, before Ridge could
interpose a word in his behalf.

"And why not?" asked the Cuban, as he coolly wiped his machete on the
grass. "Can the blood-debt that I owe them ever be paid? Are they not
adding to it every day? Even now, does not she who is dearest of all
the world to me lie wounded at their hands?"

"But, I thought you were in their service, and that they trusted you."

"So they do trust me, and to their sorrow," replied del Concha, with a
bitter laugh. "But there is no time for explanations. A precious life
hangs in the balance, and only instant action may save it. If you can
recover the horses, or even one of them, all may go well. If not,
there is little room for hope."

Without reply Ridge whistled a shrill note that echoed sharply among
the hills. The distant neigh of a horse came in answer, and he started
on a run down the road. At the foot of the slope he encountered
Senorita coming back to meet him; and springing to her back he went in
pursuit of her companions whom he soon discovered grazing by the
wayside. At sight of him they fled at full speed; but they might as
well have raced with the wind as with the fleet-footed mare; and,
within ten minutes from the time of leaving del Concha, Ridge returned,
leading the horse the Cuban had ridden. The other was left, tied to a
tree where he had captured it.

Del Concha was holding in his arms their wounded comrade, apparently a
slender youth, whose face was now disclosed to Ridge for the first time
by the light of the newly risen sun. Although it was of deathly
pallor, and the eyes were closed, he instantly recognized it as
belonging to the girl of the laughing voice who had so cleverly
contrived to aid him the evening before.

"Yes," said del Concha, noting the look of recognition, "it was she who
carried you the saws and message. She is the bravest girl in all Cuba,
and the sweetest. It was for my sake and that of her country that she
aided you; for she is a devoted patriot, and my _fiancee_. We were to
be married as soon as an American army landed. She would have it so.
Now if she dies, I cannot bear it."

While he spoke, the grief-stricken man, in whom there was slight
resemblance to the debonair bandit of the day before, laid his burden
gently down, and mounted the horse th