"It's more than possible, however, it's a certainty," returned his companion. "And now, d'you know, I fancy I can tell who you are. Your face has been haunting me ever since I first saw it. I knew I had seen it somewhere. You don't remember me, because I never saw you at the old place, but, the year after I cleared out of England, Dick sent me a photograph of himself, taken with a group of his brother officers. You and he were standing side by side, I remember. If you don't mind my saying so, you are the man who has been missing for so long, and about whom there has been so much talk—the Crown Prince of Pannonia."
"Hush, hush!" cried Max, as if he were afraid some one might overhear the other's words. "For heaven's sake don't talk so loud. You see, I don't deny the truth of your words. I suppose it would be no use. What a strange world it is, to be sure! My only reason for coming on this journey was because I was afraid of being recognised in Rio. Now it appears that it is destined for one of the men I am travelling with to find me out. What a fool I was ever to talk to you about Yorkshire!"
"It was I who started it," said the other apologetically, as if he were anxious to bear his proper share of the blame. "I'm sorry I asked you such questions, since it has caused you pain. I'm not much of a fellow, and I suppose there are a good many people who wouldn't trust me as far as they can see me; all the same, if you like, I will give you my word that your secret shall never pass my lips. I'll do that for the sake of poor old Dick, whose friend and comrade you once were."
"I thank you from the bottom of my heart," said Max. "Since my reasons were of sufficient importance to induce me to leave home, and give up everything that a man ought to hold dear, it may be supposed I am not anxious that other people should recognise me and drive me further afield again. If you will keep my secret, you will lay me under an everlasting obligation."
"Your secret is safe with me," answered Bertram solemnly. "I will pledge you my word on it, if you like."
"I'll believe you without that," said Max. "Let us shake hands upon it."
They accordingly did so. Though they could not, of course, realise it then, that hand-shake was significant in a variety of ways. Among other things, it laid the foundation of a friendship that was as sincere as it was mutual.
A few minutes later they retired into the house, and, when they had found a corner in which the night might be spent in comparative peace, if not in any degree of comfort, they wrapped themselves in their blankets and were soon asleep. Max and Bertram were early astir next morning. Not so the revellers of the previous evening. Like warriors on a battlefield, they lay just where they had fallen. Moreas was in the verandah, Rodriguez and his compatriot rested under the table, while the others were scattered in various picturesque, but undignified, attitudes about the different rooms.
"My prophecy of last night is likely to prove a true one," said Bertram, as they stood side by side surveying the prostrate figures. "They will not open their eyes till mid-day, and it will be some hours afterwards before we shall be able to get upon the road."
It turned out as he had said. Mid-day had arrived and passed before the remainder of the party seemed capable of getting upon their feet, much less of exerting themselves. Even then, the two Spaniards, Rodriguez, and Pereira, would have needed but little persuasion to make them continue the orgie for another night. Of this, however, Max and the Englishman would not hear, and even Moreas, who was by this time comparatively himself once more, joined in the chorus of disapproval. Accordingly, the horses and mules were caught and saddled, and, half an hour later, the party bade the village farewell and embarked upon their journey proper. For three days they traversed through well-vegetated forests, and over long rolling plains, with never a bush or a tree, until they entered a forbidding mountain range, and some stiff climbing became the order of the day. By the time they had had twenty-four hours of this, the strength and temper of both mules and men were well-nigh exhausted. It was in one of these gloomy passes, or cañons, as perhaps it should be properly termed, that an incident occurred that might very well have ended disastrously for the whole company concerned. It happened in this way. Ever since they had left the forest and set foot upon the sterile plateau, the commissariat, once so plentifully supplied, had been impoverished to a degree that bordered upon starvation. As a result, they were compelled to fall back upon the preserved food they had brought with them, and which was only to be used in case of emergency. This had given rise to a considerable amount of grumbling, and from grumbling certain members of the party found it a very short step to open quarrelling. Antonio Rodriguez and Moreas were the principal offenders in this respect. Indeed, it was noticeable to more than one that, in the last few days, the latter's character had changed completely. He was silent, morose, rarely smiled, and equally seldom allowed an opportunity to pass him of saying something that was likely to give offence. What was perhaps worse, he had become exceedingly jealous of the attention paid to him. Because he took it into his head that Max preferred Bertram's company to his own, he held aloof from him and conversed only with the Spaniards. But, in thus describing the change that had come over his character, I have wandered away from the incident I was about to put on record.