I shall not dwell long on my prison life. I had ample food, and twice a day was allowed to wander unmolested about the courtyard. The general had gone, and most of the officers, including Santiago, showed me many acts of kindness, which, though trifling in themselves, did much towards keeping me cheerful. Several weeks passed without incident, and I began to get very tired of doing nothing. There seemed to be little chance of escape, however. Every outlet was guarded by an armed sentry, and I was carefully watched. One day I dragged my bedstead under the window, and making a ladder of the table and chair, climbed to the bars. A single glance showed the folly of trying to escape that way without the aid of wings. That part of the fort stood on the brink of a frightful precipice which fell sheer away for hundreds of feet to the rocky coast. Of course I had no weapon of any kind, but the Spaniards had allowed me to keep the silver key, which hung around my neck by a thin, stout cord. I had almost forgotten the mountaineer's strange words, when a trifling incident brought them vividly to my mind. One morning the Indian, as usual, brought in my breakfast, and was turning to go, when he suddenly stopped and stared at me with a look of intense surprise. He was a short, stout, beardless man, with a bright brown complexion and rather intelligent features. "Well," I exclaimed, "what is it? Have I altered much since yesterday?" The man bent one knee, and bowing low, exclaimed in great excitement, "It is the key!" Then I discovered that, my shirt collar being unfastened, the silver key had slipped outside, where it hung in full view. "Yes," said I, "it is the key right enough. What of it?" His eyes were flashing now, and the glow in them lit up his whole face. "What is the master's name?" he whispered eagerly. Now this was an awkward question for me to answer. In the first place, the man might or might not be trustworthy; and in the second, the only name I knew was that of the bandit chief. However, I concluded the venture was worth making, and said, "Men call the owner of the key Raymon Sorillo." "Ah!" exclaimed the Indian, with a sigh of satisfaction, "he is a great chief. Hide the key, senor, and wait. A dog's kennel is no place for the friend of our chief." With that he went out, and the door clanged after him, while I stood lost in astonishment. What did he mean? Was it possible that he intended to help me? Thrusting the mysterious key out of sight, I sat down to breakfast with what appetite I could muster. All that day I was in a state of great excitement, though at exercise I took care to appear calm. I waited with impatience for the evening meal, which, to my disgust, was brought by a strange soldier. "Hullo!" I exclaimed, "a change of jailers? What has become of the other fellow?" "The dog of an Indian is ill," answered the man, who was evidently in a very bad temper, "and I have his work to do."