When Mr. Gordon had been thrown from the donkey, his head struck a sharp piece of granite, and was severely wounded.
The chief saw that Mr. Gordon was dying, and ordered him to be lifted tenderly into the center of the cave.
Max tried to rise, but unknown to himself his feet had been again tied together.
“My father! Oh, dad, speak to me!”
The dying man turned his eyes round and a smile was on his lips.
“Max—I—am—going—av——”
Was he going to say “Avenge me?”
Max never knew, for a cloth was stuffed into the dying man’s mouth, and the bandits commenced a wild, weird dance round the body.
Mr. Gordon turned his eyes in the direction of Max and tried to speak, but either the cloth still prevented him or his voice was hushed by the great shadow of death which was over him.
A convulsive shudder, and the American merchant’s soul had gone into the “Great Beyond” to join that of his loved wife.