He drew out his bowie knife and felt its edge, while the prisoner looked on with a growing terror in his eyes.
Melton reached down and grabbing the fellow by the collar jerked him to his feet.
"Now, listen," he said, in the mongrel blending of English and Mexican that is understood on both sides of the border. "You're going to be a dead man in one minute if you don't tell me the truth. Sabe?"
Melton's eyes were like two lambent flames, and as the fellow looked into them, he wilted like a rag. He nodded his head eagerly as a sign that he would tell all he knew.
"I guessed as much," said Melton, grimly, as he turned to the boys. "These dogs would betray their own brother to save their miserable carcass. Untie that gag, and I'll turn him inside out until I get from him all he knows."
He placed the point of his bowie at the brigand's throat, and held it there while the boys removed the gag.
"One yip from you, and this knife goes in up to the hilt," said Melton.
"Now tell me how far away your camp is from here."
"About a mile," replied the man, sullenly.
"What is the name of your captain?"
"El Tigre," was the answer, and the fellow shivered as he mentioned that redoubtable flame.