"You are."
"Very well. Now I'm coming to me point. One of General Victoria's chief assistants, and a gallant officer in his army, was Colonel Sebastian Jalisco. As a reward for this man's services, when Victoria became president he granted him a great tract of land in Eastern Sonora, covering practically the same territory as that afterward conceded to Guerrero by Pedraza. This grant of Victoria's was never revoked or annulled, and therefore Jalisco was the rightful claimant to it all the while. Jalisco was ill for many years of a mental derangement, and neither he nor his heirs ever disputed Guerrero's right to the territory. Later, however, as you know, President Santa Anna revoked the Guerrero grant. The one made to Jalisco has never been revoked, and it holds good to-day. It happens that chance has thrown me in with Colonel Jalisco's only surviving heir, his great grandson, and this, gentlemen, is the boy."
Hagan waved one of his square hands toward his dark-eyed companion.
He had thrown a bomb into the meeting, and he smiled to see the havoc it created.
Warren Hatch was on his feet, while Sudbury Bragg had leaned forward on the square table, resting on his elbows, his jaw drooping. Watson Scott grasped both arms of his chair and leaned forward as if to rise, but did not get up.
Of them all Frank Merriwell was the only one who did not seem thunderstruck.
"Who is this boy, Hagan?" he asked.
"The great grandson of Colonel Jalisco, I have told you. His name is Felipe Jalisco, with a whole lot of fancy middle names thrown in."
"We have your word for it, but it takes something more than the mere word of Bantry Hagan to cut any ice."
"Does it, indeed, me lad?"