It was Manuel, he told Raquel, in detailing his own experiences with the soldiers, who had brought about the raid. Manuel was not, it had transpired with the discovery of his perfidy, an honest man at all. He was a rebel--a bandit--who had fled Chihuahua two years before, and sought refuge in Sonora. He had taken Don Nestor in completely. While he attended the affairs of El Escondido, he maintained contacts with other miserable fugitives in the hills, and fomented trouble among the contented natives. News of his agitations had reached the governor, and it was to arrest him that the troops had come. After their first anger at the discovery that Manuel had flown, the troops had not molested El Escondido. He knew these things from Concha and old Piedad, Don Nestor explained. They had conversed with him daily from the top of the _escalera_. Ill? It was his wretched ankle, dear Señorita, which he had broken in his hurried descent into this _soterreno_ that terrible night. True, he had been somewhat ill with the shock and the excitement, for he was no longer a young man, and it was impossible for him to ascend the ladder with this useless foot. Concha had explained to the lieutenant that the _padrón_ could not see him (Raquel could imagine the dignity which sustained Don Nestor even under the trying circumstances of being detained in his wine cellar), and the soldiers had departed with apologies, profuse apologies, taking with them that fellow José, Concha’s _novio_, but none of Don Nestor’s good wine, _gracias a Dios_! Don Nestor had set his ankle himself the next day, and it was nearly well now. But he would run no risks and would not ascend, only to fall back and break it again. The soldiers had not returned, and he felt that now that Miss Raquel was back with another young lady, he would attempt to go up to the upper chambers again. The gentle old _caballero_ made a gallant effort to rise, but he was weakened by the pain in his injured foot, and his face grew white. “Oh, Señor, do not molest yourself, I beg of you,” Raquel implored. “We must arrange to get you upstairs at once, for you are very weak and cannot gain strength down here in this air. It is unthinkable. I shall go to arrange it now.” The old gentleman lay back gratefully. Presently the change was accomplished. Raquel and Concha found a high stepladder which they inclined against the perpendicular stairs that led from the wine cellar, thus making an easy ascent possible. With Concha on one side and Raquel on the other, Don Nestor, his ankle bound straight and stiff, at length climbed to the top where he all but collapsed on the floor. Then he would not move until Raquel had brought up the chest that he had kept beneath his cot all this time.