A DELAYED LETTER

But Mr. Alcando, to Americanize his name, did
not faint. After reeling uncertainly for a moment, he obtained
command of his muscles, straightened up, and stood rigid.

"I--I beg your pardons," he said, faintly, as though he had
committed some blunder. "I--I fear I am not altogether myself."

"Shouldn't wonder but what you were a bit played out," put in
Hank. "What we've just gone through with was enough to knock
anyone out, to say nothing of the crack you got on the head. Maybe
we'd better get a doctor?" and his voice framed a question, as he
looked at Joe and Blake.

"No, no!" hastily exclaimed the Spaniard, for he was of that
nationality, though born in South America, as the boys learned
later.

"I do not require the services of a physician," went on Mr.
Alcando, speaking rapidly. "I am perfectly all right now--or, I
shall be in a few moments. If I had a drink of water--"

His voice trailed off feebly, and he looked about rather
helplessly.

"There used to be a spring hereabouts," said Hank, "but I haven't
been this way in some time, and--"