"Keep still while I tie up the cut," he said.

"But they've got Grahame!" Walthew exclaimed, trying to rise.

Macallister gently pushed him back.

"I ken. A bad job, but we might have lost ye both." Then he took up a piece of linen. "It's lucky ye'll no' need st.i.tching, but maybe this will nip."

Walthew's head smarted intolerably after the bandage was applied, but the dazed feeling left him when Macallister gave him something to drink, and he began to ask questions.

"Miguel heard a shot and ran back up the beach with the others,"

Macallister told him. "They found ye reeling aboot and brought ye down to the gig, with two or three _rurales_ no' far behind; the rest must have gone off with Grahame before our men came up. They had just time to launch her before the _rurales_ began to shoot, but n.o.body was. .h.i.t.

Looks as if ye had been knocked oot with a carbine b.u.t.t."

"Where are we now?" Walthew asked.

"Steaming back to the lagoon as fast as I can drive her, and that's aboot four knots against the gale. The best thing we can do is to send Don Martin word, but ye'll go to sleep in the meanwhile. I canna' look after ye; I hae my hands full."

The clanging of hard-driven engines, which quickened to a furious rattle when the screw swung out, made the need for watchfulness plain, and Walthew crept away to his berth. He wanted to help, but knew that to attempt this would probably result in his falling among the machinery.

Dazed by the blow on his head, he soon fell asleep, and when he wakened the vessel was at rest. There was no pounding of engines, and the water no longer gurgled along her side, but he heard voices behind the bulkhead.

Scrambling awkwardly out of the berth, he made his way on deck with some difficulty. The fresh air revived him, and he saw that the _Enchantress_ was anch.o.r.ed in the lagoon, but he opened a door close by instead of stopping to look about. Two or three of the revolutionaries whom he knew were sitting round a table in the saloon, and as Walthew came in, white-faced, with staring eyes and a red bandage round his head, one of them threw up his hands.

"_Ave Maria!_" he exclaimed.

Walthew sat down with a jerk and nodded to Macallister.

"I'm better."

Then he turned to the others.

"What are we going to do?"

"Nothing, until to-night," said one. "We must wait for dark before it is safe to move. They will not keep your comrade at Valverde, and we must try to find out where they have taken him."

"I'll be quite well in a few hours," Walthew declared. "But what is likely to happen to Grahame?"

The man shrugged.

"Who knows! The regular course would be to try him for smuggling arms, but I do not think the President will follow that plan. They may send him to Rio Frio, because it is some distance from the coast, and it is possible he will be given a chance of escaping on the way."

"Do you mean that they may let him go?" Walthew asked eagerly.

"He would not go very far. You must understand that the _rurales_ have authority to shoot a prisoner who tries to escape, and the Government finds this useful. Sometimes they arrest a man whom they think the court could not convict, and an excuse is found for not watching him very closely when he is being taken to the nearest jail; perhaps a guard is called away when they stop for food. There is cover near, and the prisoner makes a dash for freedom; then the guard, who has been hiding, fires and the administration is rid of an enemy. Sometimes the _rurales_ break into the house of an obnoxious person and, taken by surprise, he gets angry. A threatening movement is enough; he is shot down. It is simpler than taking him before a judge who may be bribed to let him go."

"A gang o' bloodthirsty scoundrels! I'm thinking it's time ye turned on them," Macallister said, while Walthew sat silent with a tense face and fury in his eyes. "But, so far as we ken, they havena' shot Mr.

Grahame."

"No, senor," said another. "I think he is safe, for a time. He might prove too useful for them to shoot, at least, not until they have tried other means."

"If ye believe they can frighten or buy him----" Macallister began savagely; but the man waved his hand.

"Senor, I only think we must set him free as soon as possible, and you will agree about the need for that."

"I'm coming with you," said Walthew grimly. "If I'm not satisfied with your plans, I'll do the thing in my own way."

Macallister gave him a sharp glance. Walthew did not look fit to travel, but Macallister knew that objections would be futile. The boy had grown older and sterner in a night.

The revolutionaries began to talk about what had better be done, and it was decided that Macallister must remain in charge of the vessel, which he would hide in a creek, so as to provide a means of escape, if this should be needed. The others would start for Rio Frio as soon as it was dark and, if they could gather a strong enough force, try to overtake and attack Grahame's escort on the march. Failing this, they would follow the _rurales_ to Rio Frio, and be guided by circ.u.mstances when they got there. Walthew took no part in the discussion, but when it was finished he got up and stood looking at the others sternly.

"We are going to save my partner, and not to do something that may help you in your political schemes," he said. "It may save trouble if you bear this in mind."

They a.s.sured him that Grahame's rescue was a matter of importance to them; and when, shortly afterward they left the ship, Walthew went to his berth and slept until the afternoon. He was getting better, for it was not the cut but the jar on his skull that had dazed him, and the effect of this was pa.s.sing.

When the evening mist began to creep across the lagoon a canoe came off and a half-breed stood up in her as she approached the gangway.

"The senores are waiting," he announced.

Walthew shook hands with Macallister.

"I'll either bring him back or stop with him," he said grimly. "Your business is to be ready to take us off."

"Good luck to ye!" returned Macallister in a rather hoa.r.s.e voice. "If ye're long aboot it, I'll come after ye myself!"

When Walthew got into the canoe and vanished in the haze, Macallister went down to his engine-room and fiercely set about some work that might as well have been left undone.

CHAPTER XXVII

HANDS DOWN

Cliffe had spent some time at Villa Paz when President Altiera sent for him one morning. It was with mixed feelings that Cliffe obeyed the summons, for his business had proved longer and more difficult than he expected, and he was anxious about Evelyn. Indeed, he wondered whether he should let the concessions go and return to the coast; but he determined to be guided by what took place during the interview.

It was getting hot when Altiera received him, and a glare of reflected light shone through the unshuttered window. Cliffe, looking out over the little town, thought there was an ominous quiet. An hour earlier he had watched a company of slouching, dusty soldiers, equipped as if for service, march through the narrow streets; but there was now no one about. It struck him as significant that all the green shutters were closed and the entrances to the _patios_ barred. This might have some bearing on his business, but it was not of the first importance, and he turned to the President and studied him closely.

There was a subtle change in Altiera since their last meeting. His manner was somehow less cordial, and suspicion seemed to lurk in his dark eyes. When he had indicated a chair he looked at Cliffe steadily.

"You have, no doubt, thought over the matter we talked about not long ago," he began. "It is necessary that I should know when we may expect the loan."

"That, as I think you understand, depends on when I may expect the concessions."

"I cannot sign the papers yet. It would provoke a storm of indignation that I cannot risk. My enemies have taught the people that I am robbing them when I make a grant to foreigners."

"In short, you mean to put down the rebels before you conclude the deal with me."

"You have guessed right. There will be no complaints when I have shown that I have the upper hand."