“I don’t know,” he said evasively.—“Yes, friends,” he said, in answer to a challenge in Spanish, “I want to speak to Don Ramon.”
“He is asleep, señor, and must not be awakened,” was the reply.
“I know he is asleep,” said Poole sharply and authoritatively, “and he must be awakened. It is a case of life or death.”
The awakening was already performed, for at the sound of the lad’s half-angry voice the man he sought sprang up, revolver in hand, ready for action.
“Yes?” he said. “Are they coming on?”
“No,” replied Poole. “We have taken a spy, as we think, but he professes to know you, sir, and asks to see you at once.”
“I’ll come,” said the Don; and then turning to the lads with a smile: “Friends are very scarce; I mustn’t slight this one.”
In another minute he was where the prisoner was anxiously awaiting his coming, ready to utter a sigh of relief as the Don caught him in his arms with—
“Miguel, my friend! What brings you here?”
“I knew you were in danger,” was the reply.