up with rheumatism, sitting on a bed in a corner. This was Pedro Borillo, and he was even more alarmed than the old woman had been.
"Yes! yes! José Lupez brought the young sailor here," he said in Spanish. "I know not why he did it. But he told me it was all right. I trust I have not done wrong. He said—"
A stamping on the floor overhead interrupted the man's speech, and seeing a ladder in the corner of the room, Ben ran for it. But Larry was ahead of him, and both scrambled up like mad.
"Walter!"
"Ben and Larry! I thought I recognized your voices. Thank God you have come!" And then Walter, thin, pale, and scarcely strong enough to stand upright, threw himself first into Ben's arms and then into Larry's. It was a moment of supreme joy and one long to be remembered.
"I was afraid I should never be rescued," said Walter, when he felt like talking. "And I was so miserable that more than once I almost wished I was dead. I have been in José Lupez's clutches ever since I was caught in the mountains by him and his guard. I tried to escape a dozen times, but they watched me too closely."
