But hardly had the sound of the departing senorita’s horse died away before a fresh clatter of hoofs, coming from the opposite direction, sounded.
“Here comes the general,” guessed Stanley. “Now stand by for squalls.”
His guess was right. The horses of the new arrivals were checked in front of the prison door, and after much clanking of the bolts General de Guzman himself stalked in, followed by Colonel Charbonde. In the background hovered Hank Harkins, but he did not enter the dungeon. The memory of Ned’s blow was too recent for that.
“Prisoners, I have come to make a proposal to you,” began the general, without any preliminaries.
The prisoners nodded. All but Ned wondered what was coming next. The Dreadnought Boy had already formed an idea. That he was correct in his surmise as to the cause of the general’s visit the next words of that officer proved.
“One of your number spoke of a will,” went on the insurgent leader. “For reasons of my own I wish it. I have come to offer you your lives in exchange for the document.”
“What do you want with it?” asked Ned.
“That does not concern you. It is sufficient that I wish it,” shot out the dictator. “Are you willing to give it to me?”
Ned’s eyes fell on Charbonde’s face at that moment. His repulsive countenance was fairly ablaze with eagerness.
“I’ll give him a shock,” thought Ned maliciously.