"Remove the prisoners," said he; and at a sign the troops marched off, the officers dispersed, and none save we two remained on the platform. For a long time neither spoke. I was thinking of Rosa anxiously awaiting my return. I had bidden her hope, and there was no longer any hope. I made no attempt to deceive myself in this respect. Sorillo would do much for me, but this one thing he would not do. I dreaded the thought of returning to Lima. What would Rosa say and do when she heard of her father's shameful death? Perhaps that part might be spared her; she need not learn the whole truth. I must invent some story which would save her the knowledge of his double treachery. At last I turned to the chief, saying, "Will you allow me to speak with Don Felipe in private? He has a daughter at home; he may wish to send her a last message." "He is not worth your kindness; but do as you please." I thanked him, and walked toward the hut in which Don Felipe was confined. The sentry let me pass without protest, and opening the door I entered. The sight before me was a pitiful one. The wretched prisoner sat on a wooden bench in the dreary hovel. His arms were bound, but he was free to walk about if he so wished. At the click of the latch he raised his head, but seeing me dropped it again quickly, as if ashamed to meet my gaze. "Don Felipe," I began, "have you any message for your daughter?" Instead of answering my question, he himself asked one. "Will that brigand really put me to death?" he said. "I am afraid so. I have begged hard for your life, but in vain." Looking at me curiously, he exclaimed, "I cannot understand why you should wish to save me!" "For Rosa's sake! When you were carried off, she came to me, and I promised if it were possible to bring you back with me." "Then you do not believe the story you heard to-day, about--about--" "My father? Yes, I believe it; but that is no reason why I should be unkind to Rosa. Poor girl! 'twill be hard enough for her to lose you." "Is there no way of escape?" I shook my head. "An armed sentry stands outside; a hundred soldiers are in the ravine; the path is closely watched. I would help you if it were possible." "It will be dark to-night." "That would help us little. Even if you escaped from the hut, you would be challenged at every dozen yards. No, I can see no way out." I think that at this time he began to fully realize the danger he was in. He had a hunted look in his eyes, and again the perspiration stood on his forehead. Fear was fast killing shame, and he seemed to care nothing that I was the son of the man whom he had tried to murder. "Juan," said he, "can't you make an excuse to visit me after dark?" "I should think so," I replied. "And will you cut these cords?" "If you think it will help you at all." "Leave that to me," said he, speaking almost hopefully. "By St. Philip, I shall escape the ruffian yet!"