"What goes on here?" questioned a harsh voice, and Ridge's heart leaped
into his mouth. With desperate energy he wrenched the bars to one
side, hearing as he did so a fumbling at the lock of his door.
Utilizing his strength to the utmost, he pulled himself up, forced his
body through the narrow opening, and pitched headlong to the ground
outside. At the same time came fierce shouts, a pistol-shot, and a
great clamor from the place he had left,

But strong hands were helping him to his feet, and a voice was saying
in his ears: "You have done well, amigo. Now we must fly for our
lives."

Of course it could not be; but to Ridge's senses, confused by the shock
of his fall, it seemed as though the voice was that of the false friend
who had betrayed him.




CHAPTER XIV

REFUGEES IN THE MOUNTAINS

Without a knowledge of direction or purpose, Ridge suffered himself to
be guided by his unknown friend through several narrow streets. They
ran at top speed and in silence, but behind them came a clamor of
soldiers from the guard-house. By their shouts that a prisoner was
escaping, these aroused that portion of the town, and frightened
occupants of squalid houses caught shadowy glimpses of the fugitives as
they sped past. To the pursuers these same spectators pointed eagerly