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ACHLAN played with his glass, lowering his eyes lest his elation might be visible. So far, mat ters had progressed better than he had dared hope. He had expected to invade a nest of enemies, and, instead, the ship was almost empty. He had feared that Falcon might recognize him at once, and now that danger was past. There remained a contest of wits in which he would have need of all his shrewdness; but he began that contest with a light heart. It was with easy confidence that he improvised his answer to the other's question.

"I hope, Captain Falcon," he said, "that my news is more valuable to you than it appears. It is brief enough. My colonel, Don Joachim de Montiano, bade me tell you that Chief Concha, the Appalache, still holds his prisoner and that the latter's health is good."

Lance Falcon nodded slowly, twisting the end of his stiff moustache.

"And what of the affair of Chief Concha's daughter?" he asked eagerly.

Lachlan reached beneath his sash for a kerchief, pretending to rub a spot on his sleeve. He was in deep water at the very start.

He knew nothing save what he had learned or sur-