ife of your friend," said
the outlaw sharply. "I can cure him, I tell you. I studied medicine
and I have a few things in my bag."

"Can we risk it?" said Walter, wavering, and turning to the captain for
advice.

"We can risk anything for Charley's sake," said the old sailor,
eagerly. "We can shoot him at the first sign of treachery. Let him
in, Walt."

"I have got to go back for my things," interrupted the outlaw, whose
keen ears had caught the low conversation. "I'll be back again in a
minute. I'll fix up some excuse to return. I guess pretending that
you are considering surrendering will do as well as anything else."

Walter gazed after the young fellow's retreating form with reluctant
admiration. "He moves like a trained athlete and he hasn't got a bad
face," he admitted. "I pray he does not prove to be our undoing."

"We must take the chance, lad," said the captain. "Better remove the
post so he can get inside quick."

In a few minutes the outlaw strolled carelessly back towards the hut.
A yell of rage went up from the convicts behind the wall as he darted
through the opening into the building.

Walter quickly replaced the post and turned to watch the newcomer.

Without a word, he had marched over to where Charley lay and knelt by
his side with his finger on the lad's pulse and his keen eyes searching
his face.

After a moment's examination he turned to face the others. "Your
friend is nearly dead," he said quietly.

CHAPTER XXX

THE ATTACK.

"He has a bare chance yet," declared the outlaw, noting their looks of
grief. "I will do what I can for him, but I wish I'd been here an hour
sooner."

He took a little package from the bosom of his shirt and spread the
contents out upon the table. "I couldn't bring much without arousing
suspicion," he said regretfully, "but I guess I can make out with what
I've brought."

With deft fingers, the newcomer measured out a powder from one of his
packages and administered it to the unconscious lad and next turned his
attention to the wounded leg. Emptying a spoonful of liquid from one
of his bottles into a gourd of water he began to bathe the inflamed
limb.

The hunters could not but admire the deftness and skill with which the
stranger worked. His long tapering fingers seemed to have the
suppleness and deftness of a woman's and his whole attention seemed
concentrated upon his patient.

The hours passed slowly away, each seeming a day in l