"There is not much to tell," panted the stranger, weakly, for
Tom's landing on him had jarred him severely. "I am sick, as
you can see."

"Oh, that isn't much," said Tom, blithely. "With decent care
you will soon he well. It is plain that you are a gentleman--no
_peon_. Yonder, some distance, is a house where I think you are
very likely to be well taken care of. Don Luis Montez--"

Despite the hectic flush in the cheeks, the stranger's face paled
visibly. Tom, always observant, noted this.

"Oh, I see," Reade went on, calmly. "You do not like Don Luis
Montez, or you do not care about going to his house."

The stranger gazed up wistfully at the young engineer's kindly face.

"Senor," he asked, "you would not betray me?"

"You mean to Don Luis?"

A weak nod was the answer.

"Rest easy on that score, my friend," Tom begged, dryly. "Don Luis
and I are not on the best of terms. I do not like him very
well myself."

"Will you help to hide me here, and then go away and be silent?"

"Go away and leave you here?" suggested Reade.

"Yes, senor. It will be a great favor."

"It would be murder," Tom retorted. "Man, you're ill and you
need care--nursing. I don't know much about doctoring, but if
you have any reason why you don't want Don Luis to know you're
here, then I'll do the best I can for you here. I have a chum
who'll help me. You have been traveling for some time?" Tom continued,
his glance taking in the stranger's well-worn shoes and trousers.

"That is true, yes," nodded the stranger.

"You've been over a rough road, also," Tom continued, "and now
you're ill. Your pulse is a hundred and twenty, and you're breathing
thirty-two times to the minute. You must have a good bed, be
covered comfortably and have plenty of water to drink while we're
getting some medicines for you."

"You are indeed kind, but I fear," protested the stranger, "that
you will attract attention my way, and then I shall be captured."

Tom studied the face of the sick man keenly.

"I wish you would tell me something about yourself," the young
engineer hinted. "It might help me to decide what it is best
to do for you."

"Senor," begged the stranger, with a start of dread "it would
be a great kindness to me if you would go away and leave me here.
Do not come back--and forget that you have seen me."

"It can't be done," replied Tom, with gentle positiveness. "It
wouldn't be in American nature to go away and leave a