A few minutes later he heard the door open, footsteps approach his bed, and a hand was laid upon his head.
Billie looked up through half-closed eyelids, and was surprised to see bending over him a strange-looking individual, who reminded him strongly of the Zuni medicine man, only that his face was more refined.
“What do you think of him, Santiago?” asked a voice in English, whose owner Billie could not see, but which sounded somewhat familiar.
“I do not think he is badly hurt. I think he will be all right soon.”
“Bueno! Then I will leave him in your care; but see to it that he does not escape. Our safety may depend upon keeping him prisoner.”
“That’s nice, pleasant information,” thought Billie as he heard the speaker withdraw. “To be kept a prisoner, am I? Well, we’ll see about it.”
He uttered a faint groan and threw his hands over his head as though in pain.
“I’ll not get well as fast as they expect,” was his mental resolve. “I’ll make them think I’m too sick to get away until the right time comes.”
Again Billie felt a hand upon his head and again he observed the man beside him with half closed eyes.
When the man spoke again his voice was as soft as a woman’s.