"
"Sam," said Cleary, "have you got those East Point photographs in your
pocket?"
"Yes," said Sam, thrusting his hand into his bosom.
Cleary rolled over to Carlos as well as his ropes would allow, threw
his arms about his neck, and cried out in Castalian, "Oh, my
brother, my long-lost brother!"
[Illustration: TWO OF A KIND
"THERE ARE FOUR MARKS"]
There was a general commotion. The savages drew their knives, and for a
moment there seemed to be danger for the prisoners.
"What on earth are you trying to do, Mr. Cleary?" exclaimed Colonel
James. "It seems to me that your pleasantries are in very doubtful
taste while our lives are in the balance."
Cleary made no answer, but went on crying, "Oh, my brothers, my
long-lost brothers!"
"What do you mean?" ejaculated Carlos, in a rage. "I will give you one
minute in which to explain, and then your head will fall."
"We are your brothers. We are Moritos. We are your people from a
distant island, and you never knew it!"
"Is this true?" asked the chief, looking at Sam and the colonel.
"Swear to it," whispered Cleary.
"We swear that it is true," replied the two officers.
"Then prove it, or you shall all three die to-night. I am not to be
trifled with. Proceed."
"Senor," said Cleary, "you have said that you recognize Morito young
men by the fact that they have passed through the torture.
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