ond them. But they were yet more puzzled to hear Driscoll address the
prisoner by name.

"See here, Murgie," he said, "is this the occasion Rodrigo meant when he
talked about my meeting you soon? Is it? Come, crawl out of the grass.
Show us what you're up to. No, wait, feed first. There's plenty left."

But the old man had not once glanced toward the table. Whatever the
pangs of hunger, another torment was uppermost.

"What do you mean by this," Boone demanded, as though personally
offended, "you've got the hospital color, dull lead on yellow? Here,
take a drink. Yes, I know, it's mescal, out-and-out embalmed deviltry
that no self-respecting drunkard would touch, but Lord A'mighty, man,
you need _something!_"

Murguia shook his head irritably. Offers of what his body craved were
annoying hindrances before the craving of his soul. He twitched himself
free of the sentinels, and limped painfully to where Driscoll sat. He
wore no coat, but his green pantaloons with their crimson stripes were
rolled to the knee, and the white calzoncillos beneath flapped against
his skeleton ankles. His feet were bare, the better for an errand of
stealth in the night. He was a pitiful spectacle, yet a repulsive, and
the Americans despised themselves for the strange impulse they had to
kick him out like a dog. They watched him wonderingly as he tried to
speak. He panted from his late rough handling by the sentry, and his
half-closed wound gave excruciating pain. The muscles of his face jerked
horribly, but his will was tremendous, merciless, and at last the cords
of the jaw knotted and hardened.

"To-morrow morn--morning," he began, "the Emperor will fight. It is
arranged for--for daybreak, senores. To to fight--to break
through--to--to ESCAPE!"

"W'y then," exclaimed Harry Collins, the Kansan, "_good_ for him!"

The parson snatched off his brass-bowed spectacles, and his brow lowered
fiercely over his cherubic eyes.

"And so _you_ had to come and tell us?" he demanded.

But the traitorous old man had not the smallest thought of his shame,
nor could have.

"You--you will let him _escape?_" he challenged them in frantic
anger.

The mess stole abashed glances at one another. They would, they knew
well enough, have to act on this information. But they were men for a
fair fight, and they had no stomach to rob the besieged of a last
desperate chance. For a moment they were enraged against the informer.

"We'll just keep him here," s