CHAPTER XXXIX.
DACRES' PROMOTION.
WHEN Reno Durango recovered from the stupifying effects of the sulphur he found himself in a cabin destitute of furniture and securely locked and barred. He knew by the peculiar undulating motion that he was on board an airship. Then the truth flashed across his mind: he was in the hands of his rivals.
Rage and despair filled his heart. At one moment he thought of dashing his head against the metal bulkhead of the cabin; at another he contemplated putting an end to his existence and evading well-merited punishment by strangling himself. But his nerve failed him. Never backward in delighting to cause pain to the unfortunate wretches who had fallen into his hands at various times, he shrank from inflicting the slightest injury upon himself.
His frenzied thoughts were interrupted by the entry of Captain Whittinghame, Dacres, and Dr. Hambrough.
The Englishmen had not come to gloat over their captive; the doctor was there in his official capacity of surgeon of the "Meteor," while the others were there in case the Mexican should become violent.
"Well, my man, how do you feel now?" asked the doctor in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he were addressing a hospital patient.
Durango's reply was to roll his yellow eyes and thrust out his leathery under lip. He wanted to curse his captors, but blind rage held him speechless.
Deftly Dr. Hambrough took hold of his wrist. The Mexican, snarling like a wild beast, shook him off.
"I cannot do anything more for the patient at present," said the doctor suavely, and the three men turned to leave the prisoner to his own devices.