"Because you thought yourself injured and your pa.s.sionate nature longed for revenge. To you it seemed that I refused to give you justice. You thought me powerful, and arrogant, and selfish, and you were aroused against me until your heart was filled with fire."

"It is true my heart within my bosom burned," admitted the boy. "Since the fire from which you dragged me I have thought much. You knew I hated you, you knew I claimed your mine, you knew I meant to make you trouble, you knew I might kill you--yet you beat out the flames, smothered them, lifted me, carried me from the burning building, saved my life. Why didn't you leave me to die and get me out of your way? I do not understand."

Merry sat down beside the cot.

"I will try to make you understand. I sought to look at the whole matter from your standpoint, and I fancied I knew how you felt about it. To you I was a villain and a wretch. Instead of hating you because you hated me, I longed to justify myself in your eyes. I longed for the opportunity to show you that I was not the scoundrel you thought me."

"To me it seemed you did not care. I thought at me you laughed and sneered."

"You see now that you were wrong, Felipe. It was not you I scorned; it was your companion and adviser, Bantry Hagan, a scheming rascal, every inch of him. Hagan is a fighter, and he does not acknowledge defeat.

When the plot of Porfias del Norte failed and Del Norte was buried by the landslide in the Adirondacks, it seemed to Hagan that he had been defeated, and the taste was bitter to him. When chance led you across his path, he saw an opportunity to renew the battle against me, and he used you to do so. Behind you I saw Hagan all the while."

"But you--is it now true that you deny the justice of my claim, Senor Merriwell. It was to defy Senor Hagan that you denied it? Ah! I understand at last."

"I am afraid you do not quite understand," said Merry, shaking his head.

"You have in your possession a doc.u.ment that seems to prove your right to a certain tract of land, granted to your great-grandfather by President Victoria in eighteen twenty-four."

"_Si, senor._"

"It happens, Felipe, my boy, that I have made a close investigation and study of the records in regard to that particular territory. I learned by doing so that President Pedraza did make a grant of such land to Guerrero del Norte in eighteen thirty-two; but that the grant was afterward annulled when Guerrero was proclaimed a bandit by Santa Anna.

That disposed of the claim of Porfias del Norte, for had he lived he could not have induced the Mexican government to reaffirm the old grant.

But, Felipe, there is no record that President Victoria ever made a concession or grant of such territory to your great-grandfather."

"I have the proof! I have the doc.u.ment!"

"Unrecorded and worthless. Listen, my boy. Since you appeared and made your claim I wired my agents in the City of Mexico, and they have been investigating your right to any Sonora territory. To-day I received from them a message which I have here. When you are better you shall read it."

"It says what?" eagerly asked Felipe.

"It says that Sebastian Jalisco was at no time a colonel in the Mexican army. That after his death certain parties did attempt to get possession of valuable territory in Sonora by producing a forged land grant; but that the rascals were soon forced to take to cover to save their lives, after which nothing more was heard of 'Colonel' Jalisco's claim to Sonora land."

Frank spoke slowly, in order that the boy might understand every word.

Felipe Jalisco lay quite still some moments, his breast heaving.

"If this, then, is the truth," he finally said, in a tone that was scarcely audible, "it is I who am wholly in the wrong. The doc.u.ment is worthless."

"It is worthless, Felipe, I give you my word of honor. I felt sure of it after examining the doc.u.ment the first time. Had I believed it of the slightest value, you would have received different treatment at my hands."

Felipe moved his bandaged hands in a fumbling manner, and in his dark eyes there was a peculiar look of mingled disappointment and satisfaction.

"All the dreams I have had are done," he breathed. "Perhaps it is well.

I believe you. There is truth in your eyes. You saved me from death.

There is mercy in your heart. Even knew I my claim to be just, I could not strike at one who had saved me from death. Perhaps for me it would have been best to die!"

There was deepest pathos and despair in the final words.

"Oh, no, Felipe!" exclaimed Frank.

"For what shall I live now?"

"For your father and mother."

"I have neither."

"For your friends."

"I have none."

"Then let me be your friend," argued Merry. "I'll try to find something that shall make life worth living for you."

"Enough trouble I have been to you already. You save my life! You send me here! I am not in the free ward; I am where it costs. I ask who pay.

They tell me Senor Merriwell pay for everything. Then I think and think a long time. First I think you do it because you know you have wronged me much, and it is your conscience that compels you. Now I know it is not that. Now I know it is your good heart. Still, I do not quite understand. What more for me would you do? The debt I cannot now pay."

"Don't look at it in that light. I need a trusty fellow in Mexico--one who speaks Spanish and the patois of the half-blood laborers. Maybe you will help me. You might become invaluable to me. I will pay you----"

The Mexican lad quickly lifted one of his bandaged hands.

"Pay me!" he exclaimed. "How is it that by working all my life I can pay you? For me do not speak of pay."

"All right," laughed Merry cheerfully. "We'll fix that after you get on your feet again."

Felipe fumbled beneath the pillow, as if searching for something.

"It is here," he murmured.

"What do you want?"

"This."

He drew forth a creased, yellowed, tattered, time-eaten paper.

"It is the land grant to Sebastian Jalisco," he said. "Please for me tear it up now. I have kept it here all the time. Please destroy it, Senor Frank."

Frank took the paper.

Instead of doing as he was urged, after glancing at it, Merry carefully refolded it and placed it in a leather pocketbook.

"I'll not destroy it, Felipe--at least, not now."

"Why not?"

"Some day you may change your mind."

"No, no!"

"Some day you may wish for it again."

"No, no!"