"Shot through the shoulder," Gilbert answered promptly.
"It is you! Don't you know me?" He faced him squarely, threw back his shoulders, and waited, breathless, for his look of recognition.
Gilbert studied his face. An instant of doubt, and then, "Why, you're Pancho Lopez!" he said.
The bandit was overjoyed. "I am! But don't you recognize who is ze Pancho Lopez what I am? Look close! Ze clothes, no! Ze face!"
"Good Lord!" was all Gilbert could utter.
"Now you know me?"
"You're the man I found wounded that night!"
"And whose life you save!" Lopez added.
"Well, what do you know about that!" young Jones shouted. He was as surprised and happy as the bandit himself. This man, whom he never thought to see again in his whole life was standing here, in his own adobe.