[CHAPTER XVI.]
A RESCUE UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
Mere words cannot express my astonishment and alarm when I saw who the prisoner tied to the tree was. As I gazed at Alano my heart leaped into my throat, and like lightning I remembered what Jorge had told me the Spaniards had said, that the prisoner was to be shot at sunrise.
Alano shot! I felt an icy chill creep over me. My own chum! No, no, it must not be! In my excitement I almost cried aloud. Noting how strangely I was affected, my guide placed his hand over my mouth and drew me back into a thicket.
“It is Alano Guerez!” I whispered, as soon as I was calm enough to speak—“Señor Guerez' son!”
“Ah, yah!” ejaculated Jorge. “I see he is but a boy. Perros! [Dogs!]”
“We must save Alano,” I went on. “If he was shot, I—I would never forgive myself.”
Jorge shrugged his shoulders. “How?” he asked laconically. “Too many for us.”