the favoring gods, with news of good import. I, therefore, ask the honor
of an audience at your convenience."

Dick flung the wet hat from his curly head and took a look at the card
which the Spaniard had presented him. From it his humorous gaze went
back to the posturing owner of the pasteboard. Suppressing a grin, he
answered with perfect gravity.

"If you will happen round to the palace about noon to-morrow, _Señor_
Pesquiera, you will be admitted to the presence by the court flunkies.
When you're inquiring for the whereabouts of the palace, better call it
room 14, Gold Nugget Rooming-House."

He excused himself and stepped lightly across to his companion in the
adventure, who had by this time recovered consciousness.

"How goes it, Tom? Feel as if you'd been run through a sausage-grinder?"
he asked cheerily.

The man smiled faintly. "I'm all right, boss. The boys tell me you went
back and saved me."

"Sho! I just grabbed you and slung you in the cage. No trick at all,
Tom. Now, don't you worry, boy. Just lie there in the hospital and rest
easy. We're settling the bill, and there's a hundred plunks waiting you
when you get well."

Tom's hand pressed his feebly.

"I always knew you were white, boss."