"A reveder, señor capitan," Pardo called through the hole.
The boards were replaced. Tim was in darkness. For some minutes he heard the men moving about above him, and the faint sound of laughter. Then their feet dragged heavily on the floor: no doubt they were removing the bundle. The footsteps died away; and Tim was left in solitude and silence.
The cavity into which Tim had been thrown had been excavated for the sake of keeping the rooms above dry, and extended beneath the house from end to end. It was not a pleasant place. The ground was damp; the atmosphere was stuffy; air could enter only by one narrow grating. Its humidity and the sub-tropical heat favoured the multiplication of innumerable insects, and Tim had not been there many minutes before the voracious creatures discovered him and began to make the most of their opportunity and their victim's helplessness. They crawled over his hands, up his sleeves, upon his face, into his hair. He did his best by shaking his head and twitching his features to rid himself of the tormenting pests; but they pricked and stung with great determination and vigour, and he was soon in pain and distress.
If only he could have removed the gag he would not have felt so utterly helpless. Not that shouting would have been of any use in an empty house, but the power to groan would have seemed a luxury. And when by and by he fancied that he heard shuffling footsteps about the house, he struggled in his bonds until he felt bruised and lacerated. All was in vain. His head began to ache; ideas the most incongruous jostled in his feverish brain. He tried to collect himself and keep his mind fixed; but he could not control his thoughts. Recollections of the Black Hole of history came to harass him, and in alarm and terror lest he should wholly lose his wits he strained his muscles to the uttermost. The effort exhausted him, and presently he fell into a dull stupor, in which he was conscious of nothing.
CHAPTER XX
PARDO LOSES A TRICK
At a late hour that night a rather weary horseman rode into the Prefect's camp, a few miles beyond the defile which Mr. O'Hagan was holding with his 400 men. News of the Mollendist extravagances in San Rosario having reached San Juan, the Prefect with a sudden burst of energy moved out with a motley force of 1500, and established himself on the hills in readiness to force the passage next day. The horseman sought out the Prefect's quarters, in a sheltered glade some distance from the track, and was checked every few yards by sentries demanding the countersign. The Prefect was always very careful that all proper precautions were taken for the safeguard of his person.
Pardo was rather annoyed by these frequent interruptions. He was very tired. The roundabout route which he had been forced to take by the presence of the enemy across the road had kept him for many hours in the saddle. He had hidden the loot from his late master's house; but, like all traitors, he did not trust the man who had assisted him, and almost wished that he had not left the spoils and his friend behind. But, knowing the kind of men who formed the bulk of the Prefect's army, he had prudently decided not to bring valuables within their reach and expose them to temptation.
He came to the last of the chain of sentries, and requested an interview with the Prefect.
"His excellency is asleep, señor," said the man dubiously. "It is very late."