"I hate to eat the old scoundrel's food," muttered Harry.

"So do I, but it can't be helped for the present. We're not guilty of a breach of hospitality in planning to show the rascal up. It is Don Luis who is guilty in that direction. He is planning to use his guests as puppets in a dishonest game. Keep up your nerve, Harry, and don't let your face, your manner, or anything give you away."

Nicolas knocked as soon as he heard the boys stirring. He moved with speed this morning, spreading the table and then rushing away for chocolate, frijoles and tortillas.

As soon as the boys had finished their breakfast they hastened out to the porch, but they found their host ahead of them. More, Don Luis wore field clothing and high-topped, laced walking boots.

"Going afield, sir?" Tom inquired, genially.

"I have been afield, already," replied Montez, bowing and smiling. "Down to the mine I have been and back. The air is beautiful here in the early morning, and I enjoyed the walk. You, too, will enjoy our walks when you become used to them."

Dr. Tisco came out, bowing most affably to the young Americans.

"You look as though you had been walking, too," suggested Tom, noting Tisco's high-topped shoes.

"I went with Don Luis," replied the secretary. "Oh, by the way, Senor Hazelton, I believe some of your property has come into my possession. This is yours, is it not?"

Tisco held out a fine linen handkerchief, with an embroidered initial "H" in one corner. Harry was fond of fine linen, and effected these handkerchiefs.

"Yes; it's mine, thank you," nodded Harry, accepting the proffered bit of linen and pocketing it.

"I found it in a field, just this side of El Sombrero," remarked Tisco, artlessly, turning away.

Though the secretary did not watch Hazelton's face, Don Luis did, and saw the slight start of surprise and the flush that came to the young engineer's face.

"You, too, have been walking then, Senor Hazelton?" inquired Don Luis, pleasantly, though with an insistence that was not to be denied.

Harry didn't know how to lie. He might have dodged the question, but he was quick enough to see that evasion would make the matter worse.

"Tom and I took a stroll last night," he admitted, indifferently. "How far did we go, Tom?"

"Who can say?" replied Reade, lightly. "It was so dark, and the way so unfamiliar that we were glad when we got home, I know."

"They have been prowling," muttered Don Luis, sharply, under his breath. "I must have them watched."

"Are we going to the mine this morning, Don Luis?" Tom asked, carelessly.

"Do you care to go, Senor Tomaso?"

"Why, that's just as you say, sir," Reade rejoined. "Of course, we would like to get actively engaged at our work. In fact, it seems to me that Harry and I should rise earlier and be at the mine at least from eight in the morning until six at night."

"You would soon tire yourselves out. The mine is a dirty hole."

"By the way, sir," Reade went on, carelessly, "how far do you have to send ore to have it smelted."

"About sixty miles."

"By mule-train, I suppose."

"Yes, Senor Tomaso."

"It must be costly shipping."

"So it is," sighed Don Luis, "and yet the ore is rich enough to bear easily the cost of shipping."

"In what direction is the smelter?"

Don Luis pointed.

"Straight ahead, as I am showing you," he added.

"We saw the lights of a train last night," Tom went on. "I judged that the mule-train came from the mines above. Yet the mule-train did not follow the direction that you have just shown me. The road runs crooked, I take it."

"Oh, yes," nodded their host, as carelessly as Tom had spoken.

"Do the other mines pay as well as El Sombrero?"

"Oh, no, Senor Tomaso," Montez replied quickly. "The other mines yield not anywhere near as rich ore as comes from El Sombrero."

"Are you going to take us to see the other mines?" Tom hinted.

"Gladly would I do so, Senor Tomaso, only I am not on good terms with the owners."

"I'm sorry," Tom sighed. "While we are here I wish that we could see much of Mexican mines. Nevertheless, when we are through here I have no doubt that you can give us letters to other mine owners."

"Beyond a doubt," smiled Don Luis, "and it will give me great pleasure. But I, myself own many mines, and I am seeking to locate more. If you are suited with my employment, and if we agree, I shall be able, undoubtedly, to keep you both engaged for many years to come. Indeed, if you display sufficient resourcefulness in handling mines I do not believe it will be long ere I shall be able to pay you each fifty thousand dollars a year. I have plenty of money, and I pay generously when I am pleased and well served."

"The scoundrel is fishing for something," thought Tom Reade, swiftly. "I must not let him beat me in craft."

So he exclaimed, aloud:

"Fifty thousand dollars a year, Don Luis? You are jesting!"

"I beg to assure you that I am not," replied Montez, smiling and bowing.

"But fifty thousand a year is princely pay!" cried Reade.

"Such pay goes, of course, only to the most satisfactory of employes," declared Don Luis.

"At such pay," Tom said, "Harry and I ought to be satisfied to remain in Mexico all our lives."

"We shall see," nodded Montez. "But the sunlight is growing too strong for my eyes. Suppose, caballeros, that we move into the office?"

The others now rose and followed Don Luis.

"What on earth is Tom driving at?" Harry wondered. "He's stringing Don Luis, of course, but to what end?"

Montez stood at the door of his office, indicating that the young engineers pass in ahead of him. The instant they had done so Montez turned to his secretary, whispering:

"Send my daughter here."

Dr. Tisco vanished, though he soon reappeared and entered the office.

Don Luis, after indicating seats to the young Americans, crossed to a ponderous safe, toyed with the combination lock, threw open the door and then brought out a ledger that he deposited on one of the flat-top desks. Five minutes later his daughter Francesca entered the room.

"Now, what part is the girl to play here?" wondered Tom, instantly. "If I know anything of human nature she's a sweet and honest girl. She is no rascal, like her father. Yet he has sent for her to play some part!"



CHAPTER IX

DON LUIS SHOWS HIS CLAWS

Senorita Francesca greeted her guests with extreme courtesy.

"She's a fine young woman," thought Harry, with a guilty feeling. "Blazes, but it's going to come hard to show her father up as a scoundrel."

"Chiquita," (pet) called her father, "it has not been the custom of this country to train our women in the ways of business. But you are my only child. Every peso (dollar) that I earn and save is for you one of these days. I have much money, but I crave more, and it is all for you, chiquita. It is my wish to see you, one of these days, a very queen of wealth, as you are already a queen of goodness and tenderness. Since you must handle the great fortune that I am building for you I have concluded to override the customs of our people for generations. In other words, I am going to begin to train you, chiquita, in business."

"Business?" murmured the girl. "Ah! That word frightens me—I am so ignorant."

"Your first lesson shall not tire or dismay you," promised Don Luis, gently. "Now, place your chair close beside mine, and look over this ledger with me. I shall not attempt to make you comprehend too much at first."

With pencil and paper beside the ledger, Don Luis read off many items. Occasionally he did some figuring on the sheet of paper, as though to make the matters more clear to his daughter. She made a very pretty picture, trying to follow her father's explanations, but the perplexed wrinkling of her brow showed how hard it was for her to do so.

The figures that Don Luis took from his ledger all tended to show the immensity of the wealth already produced from El Sombrero. Tom and Harry listened courteously, for they had been invited to join the group.

"You are tired, chiquita," said her father, at last. "I have taken you too far on our first excursion into the realm of finance. This morning we will have no more figures. But here is something that cannot fail to interest you in parts at least."

Shoving aside the ledger, Don Luis drew from a drawer a bulky document.

"This is the report which Senor Reade prepared for me yesterday," Montez explained, looking at the young engineers for an instant. "The report is written in English, as I desired it written so. But I will read the most interesting parts in Spanish to you, chiquita. You will observe that this report is a masterpiece of business composition."

"I am sure that it must be," murmured Francesca, and Tom bowed his thanks.

"This report, too, is a part of your fortune," continued Don Luis. "That is, it will help to make your fortune, for it concerns El Sombrero, one of the finest parts of your fortune. We have been planning, these caballeros and I, that they shall remain in my employ indefinitely, and they are to be paid better and better if they serve you through me and serve us well. I shall reward them as an hidalgo ever rewards."

"I do not need to be told that my father is generous when he is pleased," murmured Francesca.

"Listen, then, to what Senior Reade has written. It cannot help but give you much pleasure."

"The shameless rascal!" Tom exclaimed, inwardly, as the trick became clear to him. "Don Luis is trading upon our sympathies for the girl in order to induce us to sign his lying report."

Don Luis began to read the report, translating into Spanish as he went along. When he came to tables of tedious figures Montez skipped over them hurriedly. He dwelt eagerly, however, on the paragraphs of the report that asserted such vast wealth to exist in El Sombrero. Francesca listened with rising color. Once in a while she shot a pretty, sidelong glance at Tom to show her pleasure over the report, the whole authorship of which she plainly believed to belong to him.

"Why, it reads like a romance!" the girl cried, clapping her hands when the reading had finished.

"A romance? Yes!" ground Tom, under his breath. "It is romance—pure fiction and absurdly false in every line!"

"It must be a wonderful talent to possess, senor," said Francesca, turning to Tom Reade. "A wonderful talent to be able to describe a matter of business in such eloquent language."

"It is a rare gift," Tom admitted modestly, though he had a design in what he was saying. "A rare gift, indeed, and one which I must not claim. This is your father's report, not mine. He had written it in English, and all I did was to copy it on the typewriter, and to make the English stronger at points. So I am not the author—merely the clerk."

Don Luis frowned for a fleeting instant. Then his brow cleared, and one of his charming smiles lighted his face.

"The report is a superb piece of work, and you must not believe as much as Senor Tomaso's modesty would lead him to believe, chiquita. But this is an engineer's report, and, as such, it is not complete until it is signed. Hand it to Senor Reade, chiquita, and ask him to sign it. Then Senor Hazelton will do the same."

Francesca accepted the document from her father, turned, and, with a fascinating smile, handed it to the young chief engineer.

It was a cleverly contrived bit of business, in which the girl played a wholly innocent part. Francesca dipped a pen in ink and offered it to Tom, who accepted it. Surely, he could not embarrass the girl, nor could he seem to refuse to add to her fortune by any means within his power. Don Luis had brought about the climax with great cleverness, for he felt certain of Tom Reade's gallantry.

And gallant Tom Reade ever was. Yet he was keen and self-possessed as well. While he held the pen in his hand be turned to the Mexican with one of his pleasantest smiles.

"Don Luis," said the young engineer, "I feel certain that you did not wholly understand what I said yesterday. What I meant to make clear was that an engineer's signature to a report is his written word of honor that every word in the report is true, to his own knowledge. As I merely transcribed this report from your own, and have not yet had sufficient opportunity to prove to myself the value of the mine, I could not in honor sign this report as yet. As a man of honor you will certainly understand my position."

"But you are too particular on a point of honor," insisted Don Luis Montez, with a shrug of his shoulders. "You do not need to draw the line so sharply with a man of honor. I assure you that every word in the report is true. Therefore, will you not be so good as to sign the report?"

"I regret that I have not yet succeeded in making an engineer's point of honor clear," Tom replied, placing the pen back on the stand. "It will be some weeks, Don Luis, before Hazelton and I can possibly hope to find ourselves sufficiently well informed about the mine to sign the report."

Francesca was by no means stupid. While she did not understand business matters, she was sufficiently keen to note, from her father's very insistent manner, and from Tom's equally firm refusal to sign, that some point of honor was in dispute between the two. She flushed deeply, glanced wonderingly from one to the other, and then her gaze fell to the floor.

"Chiquita," said Don Luis, tenderly, "I have been thoughtless, and have given you too long a lesson in business. Besides, Senor Reade is not yet ready to serve us in this matter. You may go to your room, my daughter."

Without a word Francesca rose and left the room.

As soon as the door had closed Don Luis broke forth bitterly:

"You have done well to insult me before my daughter. She understands only enough to realize that you have doubted my honor, and she certainly wonders why I permitted you to live longer. Senor Reade, whether or not your American ideas of courtesy enable you to understand it, you have grievously insulted me in my own house, and have intensified that insult by delivering it before my daughter. There is now but one way in which you can retrieve your conduct."

Don Luis Montez rose, dipped the pen freshly in ink, and thrust it into Reade's hand.

"Sign that report!" ordered the Mexican.

Tom rose to his feet. So did Harry.

"Don Luis," spoke Reade calmly, though he was inwardly raging. "I always like to do business like a gentleman. I feel very certain that I must have made it very clear to you yesterday that I could not possibly sign any such report at the present time. I still prefer to keep our talk within the limits of courtesy if that be also your wish."

"Sign that report!"

"I won't do it!"

Tom accompanied his response by tossing the pen across the room.

"Don Luis, I don't believe that you are a fool," continued the young chief engineer, calming down again. "If you consider that I am utterly a fool, either, then you are doing your own intelligence an injustice. I refuse to sign this report until I have gained the knowledge for myself that every word in it is true. Further, I don't believe that I would sign it after I had made the fullest investigation. I am aware that, last night, mule-trains brought ore down over the hills from another mine, and that ore was sent down by the ore hoists into El Sombrero."

"That's a lie!" cried the Mexican, hoarsely.

"I am describing what I saw with my own eyes," Tom insisted.

"You will sign this report, and at once!" quivered Don Luis Montez, a deadly look glittering in his eyes.

"I am quite satisfied that I shall never sign it," Tom retorted.

"That goes for me, too," put in Harry, stolidly.

"I feel that we have finished our work here, since we can do nothing more for you, Don Luis," Tom went on. "I therefore ask you to consider our engagement at an end. If you are disinclined to furnish us with transportation to the railway, then we can travel there on foot."

"Do you hear the Gringo, my good Carlos?" laughed Don Luis, derisively.

"I hear the fellow," indifferently replied Dr. Tisco, from the other end of the room.

"Will you furnish us with transportation from here?" Tom inquired.

"I will not," hissed Montez, allowing his rage to show itself now at its height. "You Gringo fools! Do you think you can defy me—that here, on my own estates, you can slap me in the face and ride away with laughter?"

"I haven't a desire in the world to slap your face," Tom rejoined, dryly. "All I wish and mean to do is to get back to my work in life."

"Then listen to me, Gringos," said Don Luis Montez, in his coldest tones. "Your work here is to sign that report. If you do not, then you shall never leave these mountains! Your lives are in my hands. If you do not serve me as I have ordered, then I shall feel obliged—in self-defense—to destroy you!"



CHAPTER X

THE SPIRIT OF A TRUE ENGINEER

"Do you know, Don Luis," drawled Tom, "that you have one fine quality?"

"What do you mean?" demanded the Mexican.

"You are very explicit. You are also extremely candid! You don't leave the other fellow guessing."

Don Luis Montez frowned. He felt certain that fun was being poked at him.

"I am trying to make you young men understand that you must do exactly what I wish of you," he returned, after a moment.

"And we have tried to make it plain, sir, that we haven't, any idea of doing what you want," Tom Reade answered him.

"You will change your minds," retorted the mine owner.

"Time will show you that, sir. In the meantime, since we cannot live here, what do you expect us to do?"

"I have said nothing about your not living here," uttered Don Luis, looking astonished. "You are very welcome to all that my poor house affords."

"Thank you; but we can't live here, just the same."

"And why not, caballeros?"

"Because we shall henceforth be on the most wretched sort of terms with the owner of this house."

"There is no need of that, caballeros. You will, I think, find me extremely courteous. My house is open to you, and there is no other place that you can go."

"Nowhere to go but out," mimicked Harry Hazelton, dryly.

"You will find yourselves unable to get out of these hills," Don Luis informed them, politely, though with an evil smile. "You may decide to leave us, and you may start at any time, but you will assuredly find yourselves stopped and brought back. You simply cannot leave me, caballeros, until I give my consent. Remember, no king could rule in these hills more absolutely than I do. No one may enter or leave this part of the state of Bonista without my consent."

"As to that, of course we shall know more later, Don Luis," Tom returned. "However, we cannot and shall not remain longer as guests in your house."

"I trust you will consider well and carefully on that point," retorted the Mexican.

"No; we simply can't and won't remain here unless—well, unless—"

"What are you trying to say, senor?"

"Then possibly you have overlooked building any dungeons under the house? Dungeons, I understand, were a part of the housekeeping scheme in old Mexico."

"There are no dungeons here," said Don Luis icily.

"You relieve me, sir. Then the last obstacle is removed to our departure. We shall go at once. Come on, Harry."

Tom turned to leave the room, Hazelton at his heels. But Montez, with an angry exclamation, leaped to the doorway, barring their exit.

"Caballeros, you shall not leave like this!"

"No?" Tom inquired. "Harry, our late host wishes us to leave by the windows."

"All right," nodded Hazelton, smiling. "I used to be something of an athlete."

"You shall not leave me in any such childish spirit," Don Luis insisted, stubbornly.

"If you are going to try to reopen the proposition that you made us," said Reade, "you may as well stop."

"You will come to your senses presently."

"We are in full possession of them at present."

"We shall yet come to a sensible arrangement of the matter," Montez continued, coaxingly. Indeed, the Mexican had suddenly come to see that he was absolutely dependent upon the young Americans if he hoped to sell his mine in the near future.

"You are wrong, Don Luis," Reade continued. "We can come to no understanding. Matters have now gone so far that we are no longer bound by the rules of courtesy. Nor do the laws of hospitality weigh with us, for you have chosen to bully and threaten us under your own roof. I will therefore be frank enough to tell you that we regard you as a mere rogue. Am I right, Harry?"

"Wholly right," nodded Hazelton. "Don Luis, I cannot see that you are one whit more honest, or in any sense more of a gentleman, than any of the outlawed bandits who roam these mountains. Therefore, as Americans and gentlemen, we find it wholly impossible for us to remain either your employs or your guests. There can be no hope whatever that we shall consent to serve you, even in the most innocent way."

Don Luis heard them with rising anger, which, however, he kept down with a fine show of self-control.

"Caballeros, you are young. You have not seen much of the world. You are mere boys. You have not even, as yet, developed good manners. Therefore I overlook in you what, in men, might arouse my anger. Take my advice. Go to your rooms. Think matters over. When you have cooled we will talk again. No—not a word, now."

Don Luis stepped aside. Tom bowed, very stiffly, in passing the Mexican. Harry merely gazed into the Mexican's eyes with a steadiness and a contempt that made the mine owner wince.

Straight down the hallway, to their rooms, Tom marched, Harry following. Barefooted Nicolas sprang forward, bowing, then swinging open the door. He bowed again as the young engineers stepped inside. Then Nicolas pulled the door shut.

"Are you going to stay, Tom, and have any further talk with this thief?" sputtered Harry, who had held in about as long as was safe for him.

"What do you think?" Tom asked, grimly, as he knelt upon his trunk and tugged at the strap.

"I reckon I think about the same as you do," rejoined Hazelton, closing his own trunk and strapping it.

"One—two hoist!" ordered Reade, settling his own trunk upon his shoulder.

Harry followed suit. In Indian file they moved across the room.

"Nicolas," called Tom, "be good enough—the door!"

The barefooted servant swung the barrier open.

"Thank you," said Tom, marching out. Then he dumped the trunk, noiselessly, to the floor. Going into an inner pocket he produced a five dollar bill.

"Nicolas," said the young chief engineer, "you have certainly done all in your power to make us comfortable. I am sorry that we are not longer to have the comfort of your services. Will you do me the favor of accepting this as a remembrance? It is American money, but you can easily get it changed. And now, let us shake hands."

Nicolas appeared dazed, both by the money and by Tom's desire to shake hands with him. The hand that Tom clasped trembled.

"Same here," murmured Harry, also producing a five-dollar bill. "Nicolas, you're a Mexican, but I wish they produced more of your kind on the American side of the Rio Grande."

"The caballeros have been too generous with me," protested the poor fellow, in a husky voice. "I have not deserved this. And, though I have been a stupid servant, you have not once beaten me with your canes."

"If you can find the canes you may keep them, then, as a souvenir of what you didn't get," laughed Reade. "And now, Nicolas, we must hasten, or we shall lose our trains."

The Mexican would have said more, but he was too dazed. In his left hand he held ten dollars in American money, about the same thing as twenty in Mexican coin. It was more money than he had ever held of his own before—it was almost a fortune. Surely, these Americanos must suddenly have taken leave of their senses! Then, too, Senor Reade had just spoken of missing the train. Did they not realize that the nearest railway train was seventy miles away? Assuredly, they must be mad!

In the meantime Tom and Harry, having once more shouldered their trunks, kept on down the broad hallway and out on to the porch. There was no one there to oppose them, though Don Luis was secretly regarding them through the crack of a nearly closed door. There was an evil, leering smile on the face of the Mexican mine owner.

Down the steps, along the drive—it was not a short one, and then out into the road, Tom continued. His back was beginning to feel the unaccustomed load on his shoulder.

"Drop it, pretty soon, Tom," muttered Hazelton, behind him.

"I believe I will Reade nodded. Reaching the farther side of the road he dropped one end of the trunk to the ground. Harry did likewise.

"Whew!" sputtered Tom. "I'd rather be an engineer, any day, than a delivery wagon!"

"Well, we're here," announced Harry. Then inquired, "What are we going to do now?"



CHAPTER XI

A PIECE OF LEAD IN THE AIR

"Get your wind back," advised Tom. "Also ease your shoulder a bit."

"And then?"

"We'll carry the trunks up the slope and dump them in some depression in the rock."

"What's the use of the trunks, anyway?" Harry wanted to know. "No one else will shelter us in this country. We can't get a wagon to take our trunks away in. Surely, you don't intend to shoulder these trunks to the railway station—seventy miles away?"

"No," Reade admitted. "We'll have to abandon our trunks. All I wanted to be sure about was to get them out of Don Luis's house. And now I am just as anxious to get them out of sight of his porch. As long as the trunks stand here they'll tell Don Luis of our discomfort. I don't want that thieving rascal to have the satisfaction even of laughing at our trunks."

"All right, if that's the way you feel about it," Hazelton grunted. "I'm ready to shoulder mine."

"Come along, then," Tom nodded. "Up the slope we go."

Their climb was a hard one. But at last they halted, dropping their heavy baggage on a flat surface of rock that was not visible from the big white house. Then up a little higher the now unencumbered engineers trod. When they halted they could see far and wide over this strange country.

"Now, what?" asked Hazelton.

"Luncheon, if I had my choice," muttered Tom. "But that's out of the question, I fear."

"Unless we can catch a rabbit, or something, with our hands."

"Harry, I wonder if we can find the trail all the way back to the railroad. These mountain paths are crooked affairs at best."

"We know the general direction, and our pocket compasses will serve us," Hazelton nodded.

"Don Luis seems to think that he can stop us from getting through to the railroad."

"I'm not so sure that he can't, either, Tom. Hang these little Mexicans. With our hands either one of us could thrash an armful of these people, but a Mexican with a gun is almost the size of an American with a gun. Tom, if we only had a brace of revolvers I believe we could go through to civilization without mishap."

"We haven't any pistols, so there's no use in talking about them," Reade retorted.

"But we would have had revolvers, at least in our baggage, if you hadn't always been so dead set against carrying them," Harry complained.

"I'm just as much set against firearms as ever," Tom answered, dryly. "Revolvers are made for killing people. Now, why any sane man should desire to kill any one goes beyond me."

"Humph! We'll be lucky if we can get out of these mountains without killing any one," grunted Hazelton.

"Cheer up!" laughed Tom. "The whole world hasn't turned black just because we've skipped our luncheon."

"I wouldn't mind the luncheon," Harry began, "if—"

He stopped short, as he caught a glimpse of the spot where they had left their trunks.

"Tom, let's hustle back to where we left our trunks," he whispered. "I just saw some one moving about on that spot"

"Oh, if any thief is after our baggage, let him have it," smiled Tom. "The stuff all goes to a thief in the end, anyway, for we know that we can't carry our trunks with us."

But that didn't suit. Hazelton, who still felt as though he owned his own trunk. So he started back, soft-footed. Presently they came in sight of a human being seated on Reade's trunk.

"Nicolas!" breathed Tom.

"Si, senor," (yes, sir) returned the servant.

"But what are you doing here?"

"I am your servant," replied the Mexican, calmly.

"Wrong; you're Don Luis's servant."

"But he ordered me to wait on you both unceasingly, senor."

"We have left Don Luis's house, for good," Tom continued, walking over to where the barefooted one sat.

"That may be true, senor; it is true, since you say it, but my orders have not been changed. Until Don Luis tells me differently I shall go on serving you."

"Did Don Luis send you after us, Nicolas?" Reade demanded, wonderingly.

"No, senor."

"Did any one at the house send you?"

"No, senor. I did not need to be sent. I am faithful."

Nicolas followed this with a smile that showed his white teeth. He spoke in utter simplicity.

"And now what can I do for you, caballeros?" the Mexican inquired.

"Nicolas," asked Tom, with sudden inspiration, "is there any store hereabouts? Any place where food can be purchased?"

"No, senor; there is a store not far from the shaft entrance of El Sombrero Mine. That is where the peons of the mine draw their food, and have it charged against their pay accounts. But no one may buy there for cash."

"Is there no place where you can buy food for us?"

"Caballeros, of course, I will not pretend not to understand that you are on bad terms with Don Luis. Hence, both his storekeeper and his peons would hesitate to sell food for you or to you. But I have a relative who works in the mine, and he is a brave man. I think I can persuade him to sell me food and ask no questions. In fact, caballeros, that is what I will do."

"It won't get your relative into any trouble, will it, Nicolas?" Tom asked.

"I can manage it, senor, so that no trouble will follow."

"Then take this money and get some food, my good Nicolas, if you can manage it without getting any one into trouble."

"It will have to be very plain food, Senor Reade, such as peons eat," urged Nicolas.

"Plain food never killed any man yet," Tom laughed. "Well, then, take this money and serve us at your convenience."

"I have no need of money," replied the Mexican, shaking his head. "I am well supplied, caballeros."

Displaying the two banknotes that he had received an hour before, Nicolas took three steps backward, then vanished.

"There goes a faithful fellow!" glowed Tom.

"If he isn't doing this under Don Luis's orders," muttered Hazelton.

"Harry, I'm ashamed of you," retorted Tom, finding a soft, grass-covered spot and stretching himself out. He pulled his sombrero forward over his face and lay as though asleep. Any one, however, who had tried to creep upon Reade would speedily have discovered that he was far from drowsy.

"Humph!" said Harry, after glancing at his chum. "You don't appear to realize that there's any such thing as danger around us."

"If there is, I can't keep it away," Tom rejoined. "Harry, this idle life is getting into my blood, I fear. Now, I know just how happy a tramp feels."

"Go ahead and enjoy yourself, then," laughed Hazelton. "For fifteen minutes at a time you'd make an ideal tramp. Then you'd want to go to work"

"I wouldn't mind having a little work to do," Reade admitted. "Harry, it took nerve to throw up our connection with Don Luis. At least, that meant some work to do."

"It did not," Harry contradicted. "Don Luis didn't want us in his mine at all, and showed us that as plainly as he could. All the work he wanted out of us was the writing of two signatures. The need of the signatures was all that ever made him bring us down from the United States."

"He'd he such a charming fellow, too, if he only knew a little bit about being honest," sighed Tom, regretfully.

"There is one thing about his rascality that I shall never forgive," growled Hazelton. "That was, dragging his innocent daughter into the game, just in the hope that her presence would influence us to sign."

"I trust, caballeros, that you did not find me too slow and lazy," broke in the soft voice of Nicolas, as that servant stole back in on them. He was well laden with parcels, at sight of which Reade sat up with a jerk.

"Anything in that lot that's all ready to be eaten without fussy preparation, Nicolas?" the young chief engineer asked eagerly.

"Oh, si senor!"

"Then lead us to it, boy!"

The Mexican servant unwrapped a package, revealing and holding up a tin.

"Food of your own kind, from your own country, caballeros," the Mexican announced proudly.

"Canned baked beans," chuckled Harry, after glancing at the label. "Hurry and get the stuff open."

Nicolas opened two tins of the beans, then produced a package of soda biscuits.

"This will be enough for one meal, caballeros?" he asked.

"Oh, plenty," nodded Tom.

"And then I have some of our Mexican beans, dried," Nicolas continued. "They will do when we are not so near a food supply. I have also a little dish in which to boil them over a fire. Oh, we shall get along excellently, caballeros."

Shortly the very simple meal was ready and eaten in record time.

"And here is something else that we shall drink in the morning," Nicolas announced, presently as he held up a package. "It is chocolate."

As Tom and Harry both detested this beverage, they were forced to feign their enthusiasm.

"Now, I feel as though we ought to do some walking," Tom declared, rising and stretching.

"Walking?" queried Nicolas. "Where?"

"Over the hills to the nearest telegraph station. There is one within twenty miles, is there not?"

"There is, caballero," Nicolas assented, gravely, "but it will be impossible for us to reach it."

"Impossible? Why?" Reade demanded.

"On my way back I kept my eyes open," the Mexican explained. "As a result I discovered who is in these hills about us."

"Who, then?" Harry asked.

"Pedro Gato," Nicolas affirmed solemnly.

"Who?" said Tom. "Oh, Gato? Only he?"

"Only he and some of his worthless, criminal companions," the servant went on, solemnly. "Senor Reade, at no greater distance than this from Don Luis you may be safe from Gato. Yet, if you stroll but a few miles from here Pedro Gato will not so greatly fear the hidalgo. Then Gato will work his own will with you."

"He will, oh?" Tom demanded grimly.

"Of a surety, senor!"

"If I should see Pedro Gato first, he would be likely to come in for another walloping," Tom laughed, dryly.

"But you would not see him, senor. You would hear him only, and Gato's message would be a bullet."

"Can Gato shoot any better than he fights?" smiled Reade.

Bang! An unseen rifle spoke. Judged by the sound the marksman was not more than three hundred yards away.

"Sz-z-z-zz!" the leaden missile sang through the air. It flattened against a rock in front of which the young chief engineer was standing.

"You are answered, mi caballero!" cried Nicolas, throwing himself flat on the earth. "Drop to the earth, senor, before the second shot is fired!"



CHAPTER XII

NICOLAS DOES AN ERRAND

Tom did not follow the advice to flatten himself on the ground. Instead, he stood straighter—even rose on his toes and stared in the direction whence he judged the shot to have come.

"Gato, you treacherous scoundrel!" Read roared, in Spanish. "Do you call yourself a brave man, to fight an unarmed foe like this?"

All was silent amid the rocks in the distance.

"Have you too little courage to answer me?" Tom again essayed. "Or are you man enough to show yourself—to come forward and listen to me. Don't be afraid. I can't hurt you. I have no weapon worse than my fists."

As the young chief engineer spoke in Spanish, Nicolas understood.

"Don't! Don't, mi caballero," implored the Mexican servant "Don't let him know that you are unarmed. Make a move as though to draw a pistol, and Gato may run away instead of sighting his rifle once more at you."

"Now I know you, Gato, for the wolfish coward that you are," Tom Reade shouted mockingly. "You are desperately afraid when you won't meet me, unarmed as I am."

"If Senor Reade is so utterly brave when he has no weapons," thought the barefooted servant, "then if he had a gun in his hand he would be the bravest man in all the world!"

"I guess that yellow dog isn't going to bark at us again, just now," laughed Tom, carelessly, when some moments had passed without another shot. "Doubtless, the fellow was frightened away by the sound of his own rifle."

"That shot was a warning," chattered Nicolas. "It is his way of sending you his defiance. When Gato fires again he will try in earnest to kill you, and he will keep on firing until he succeeds. Oh, mi caballero, if you will give me some more of your Americano money, I will hasten about until I find some one who will sell me a gun for you. You must have one in your hands all the time."

"Not for mine," smiled Reade. "To tell you the truth, Nicolas, guns sometimes make me nervous. If I had one I might be clumsy enough to shoot myself with it."

"Nicolas is talking sense," interrupted Hazelton, speaking in English. "Both you and I should be armed."

"By all means have Nicolas get a gun for you, Harry, if you will," Reade answered, coolly. "But none for me."

"I'd like to meet Gato face to face and on equal terms," Harry went on, dropping back into the Spanish tongue.

"So would I," agreed his chum. "I have much to say to Gato. If there were mail boxes in this wild country I'd drop him a letter."

"Do you really wish to send Gato a letter?" asked Nicolas, eagerly.

"Why, I'd send him one if I could," nodded Tom.

"Have you writing materials?" pressed the servant.

"Yes—but what's the use?"

"Write your letter, mi caballero, and I will hand it to Gato," urged the Mexican.

"You?" gasped Tom.

"Certainly."

"But how?"

"I will hand the letter to him in person."

"You—go to Gato?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"Gato would kill you!"

"Kill a poor peon?" smiled Nicolas. "Oh, no; I am not worth while. I am not a fighting man."

"Do you mean to tell me," demanded Tom, astonished, "that you could go openly and safely to Gato?"

"Assuredly," declared Nicolas, composedly. "Gato would not harm me. I am one of his own people, a Mexican, and have not the courage to fight. So he would only disgrace himself in the eyes of his countrymen if he tried to do me harm."

"Is that the truth?" Reade persisted.

"Certainly, Senor Reade. If there were a priest here I would swear to it as the truth."

"And you have the courage to try to hand a note to Gato?"

"Under the circumstances it does not require courage, since I am safe," replied Nicolas, steadily and easily.

"Hanged if I don't think I will write a note to Pedro Gato!" chuckled Tom.

"Do so, mi caballero; at your convenience."

Tom tore a page out of a notebook, and with his fountain pen wrote the following note in Spanish:

"Pedro Gato: If you had half the courage of a rabbit you would not go skulking through the hills, shooting at me without giving me any chance to tell you or show you what I think of you. A shot has just struck near my head, yet no glimpse was to be had of the man who fired the shot. If you did that, then you are a coward of a low, mean type. If you do not feel like accepting my opinion of you, then will you meet me and explain your conduct as one real man talks with another? If you will not give me this explanation, and persist in trying to shoot at me, then I warn you that I will and must pummel you with my fists if I ever have the pleasure of meeting you face to face."

"Thomas Reade."

Harry glanced through the note and smiled. "That ought to scare the bold, bad man," said he.

"Read this, Nicolas, and see if you think the note will shame the scoundrel," laughed Tom.

"Pardon, mi caballero," objected Nicolas, "but I am no scholar. I do not know how to read or write."

"Oh!" said Tom simply. "Then let me read it to you."

Tom repeated what he had written, then asking:

"Do you think, Nicolas, that it will be safe for you to take this to Pedro Gato?"

"Assuredly, senor."

"And you are sure you can find the scoundrel?"

"I think so, though it may take considerable time."

Nicolas took the note, holding it tight in his left hand. He was visible for a few steps, after which he dodged down behind a rock and was seen no more.

Moving stealthily over the hillsides, Nicolas spent a full hour in obtaining the first glimpse of Gato. That worthy was seated on the ground, smoking and chatting in low tones with his desperate-looking companions. Suddenly Pedro caught sight of the servant and started up. He beckoned, and Nicolas approached.

"You have come to serve us," said Gato, delightedly. "You are a good youth, and I shall reward you handsomely some day. You are ready to tell us how we can trap the two Gringos. How many weapons have they, and of what kind?"

"Truly, I do not know, Senor Gato," Nicolas answered.

"That taller Gringo taunted me with the claim that he was not armed at all," grinned Gato, ferociously. "But I am too old a man to be caught by any such lie as that. He was trying to lead us on, that we might walk into their Gringo trap. Was he not?"

"Truly I do not know," Nicolas repeated.

"Then what are you doing here, if you bring us no news?" snarled Gato, whereat Nicolas began to tremble.

"I—I bring a letter from his excellency, el caballero, Reade," faltered the servant.

"A letter?" cried Gato, hoarsely. "Why did you not say so before."

"I have been waiting, Senor Gato, until you gave me time to speak," protested the messenger.

"Hand me the letter," ordered Gato, stretching forth his hand.

Nicolas handed over the page torn from Tom's notebook. Gato slowly puzzled his way through the note, his anger rising with every word.

"The insolent Gringo!" he cried. "He insults my courage! This from one who is a mere Gringo—the most cowardly race of people on the earth. Oh, I shall exact revenge for this insolence. And you, Nicolas, had the impudence to come here with such an insult."

"I assure you, Senor Gato, I was but the unfortunate messenger." Nicolas replied, meekly.

"Since you brought this insolence to me you shall take back my message. Tell the dogs of Gringos that I laugh at them. Tell the Gringo, Reade, that, in these hills, I shall do as I please. That I shall let him pass safely, if I am so minded, or that I shall shoot at him whenever I choose. Assure him that I regard his life as being my property. Begone, you rascal!"

Nor did Nicolas linger. From the outset he had been badly scared, though he had been truthful in assuring Tom Reade that a bandit would hardly hurt a poor peon.

When Nicolas at last reached the young engineers he delivered the message that Pedro Gato had regarded the whole matter as insolence, and had been very angry.

"Gato added," continued Nicolas, "that he would shoot at you when and where he pleased. And he will do it. He is a ferocious fellow."

"Humph!" muttered Tom. "If your feet don't mind, my good Nicolas, I have a good mind to send Gato another and much shorter note. Is it far to go!"

"N-not very far," said Nicolas, though he began to quake.

"Of course, I shall pay you well for this and all the other trouble you are taking on my account," Tom continued, gently.

"I am finely paid by being allowed to serve you at all, Senor Reade," Nicolas protested.



CHAPTER XIII

PINING FOR THE GOOD OLD U.S.

"You will have to be very careful that Gato does not get another chance to shoot at you, mi caballero," Nicolas went on. "He does not believe that you are unarmed, or he would speedily settle with you. But he will shoot at you frequently, from ambush, if you give him the chance."

"Then I hope he'll do it frequently," grimaced Reade. "The need of frequent shooting indicates bad marksmanship."

"Senor," begged Nicolas, "I would not joke about Gato. He means to kill you, or worse."

"Worse?" queried Tom, raising his eyebrows. "How could that be?"

The Mexican servant made a gesture of horror.

"It is worse when our Mexican bandits torture a man," he replied, his voice shaking. "They are fiends—those of our Mexicans who have bad hearts."

"Then you believe that Gato plans something diabolical, just because I walloped him in a fair fight—or in a fight where the odds were against me?"

"It matters not as to the merits of the fight," Nicolas went on. "Gato will never be satisfied until he has hurt you worse than you hurt him."

"And perhaps Don Luis may be behind the rascal, urging him on and offering to protect him from the law? What do you think about that, Nicolas?"

"I cannot say," Nicolas responded, with a slight shrug. "I am Don Luis's servant."

"Pardon my forgetting that," begged Harry. "I should not have spoken as I did."

"For more than one reason," Tom muttered, "we shall do well to get out of this unfriendly stretch of country. Harry, we're pining for the good old U.S., aren't we?"

"Just a glimpse of the American side of the border—that's all we want," laughed Hazelton.

"And, if we're to be killed, we'll at least be killed while trying to reach the border," Reade proposed.

"Do you intend starting now, senor?" asked Nicolas, in a low voice.

"Not before dark," Tom murmured.

"Then why do you two not sleep for a while?" begged the servant. "You will need some strength if you are to travel through these mountains all night. Sleep! You can trust me to keep awake and to warn you if danger gets close."

"Thank you, old fellow; I know we can trust you," Tom replied. He stretched himself out on the ground, pulling his hat down over his eyes. Within two minutes he was sound asleep. Not more than a minute after that Harry, too, was dozing.

It was still daylight when Tom awoke. He sat up. Harry was sleeping soundly, and Nicolas was not in sight.

"Abandoned?" thought Reade. "No; that's hardly likely. Nicolas rings true. Hiding close to here, undoubtedly, that he may keep better watch. A call will bring him here."

Tom rose, to look about.

"Be cautious, senor," came the whispered advice from an unseen speaker. "If you expose yourself you may invite a bullet."

Tom promptly accepted the advice. Going toward the sound of the voice, he found Nicolas crouched in a trough of rock not far from where they had lain down.

"Now, Nicolas, it's your turn," whispered Reade.

"My turn for what, senor?"

"Sleep!"

"I am but a servant, senor. I do not need rest."

"Nicolas, you go in and lie down near Hazelton, and go to sleep."

The Mexican grumbled a little, but all his life he had been taught to obey orders. Within sixty seconds the servant was sound asleep.

An hour later it began to darken.

Harry Hazelton awoke with a start, to find Tom with his finger on his lips.

"Nicolas is asleep," whispered Reade. "Don't make any noise that will awaken him. I have no doubt that he would go through with us and be our guide. But that would put him in bad with Don Luis, and we have no right to expose the poor fellow to blame. Move about without noise, and we'll eat some of the stuff that Nicolas brought us."

This was done. It was dark by the time that the simple meal had been finished. Tom drew out another five-dollar bill, which he pinned to the shirt of the poor Mexican.

"Now we'll take all the food with us," Tom whispered. "Nicolas won't need any of it, as he's less than twenty minutes' walk from a square feed. Come along—on tip-toe."

Tom led the way through the darkness, not halting until they were well away from the Mexican.

"Now, wait a moment, until we get our bearings from the stars," Tom proposed. "Then we'll make a straight, fast, soft hike to the telegraph station."

"Only twenty miles away, over the boulders," murmured Hazelton.

"This is where our past physical training comes in finely," Tom rejoined. He looked up at the sky, pointing to and naming several of the fixed stars.

"Now, as we know our course, we can hardly, go astray," Reade suggested. "Ready! Forward march!"

Tom took the lead in this, as he did in nearly everything else. For more than an hour the young engineers trudged ahead. When at last they halted for breath they had covered at least three miles of their way.

"Nicolas will feel insulted when he wakes, I'm afraid," suggested Hazelton.

"I'm afraid he will. Nicolas may have a copper skin, and be under-sized and illiterate, but he's one of the old-fashioned, true-to-the-death kind. But, if he helped guide us out of this wilderness, Don Luis would probably flay the poor fellow alive afterwards."

"I wonder if we're going to make the telegraph station by daylight!" Harry went on.

"I'm afraid not. But we ought to be there some time during the forenoon."

"That will give Don Luis time, perhaps, to wake up to our disappearance and send men after us," hinted Harry.

Tom's face grew long at this suggestion. He was well aware that Don Luis Montez was a man who was both dreaded and obeyed in these mountains.

"Oh, well, we'll do all we can for ourselves," Tom proposed. "We'll keep cheerful about it, too—until the worst happens."

"I'm rested, Tom. Shall we start along?"

"Yes; for we're both anxious to get through!"

Once more Reade took the lead. They trudged another mile, often without finding the semblance of a trail. Finally, they discovered what seemed to be a crude road leading in their general direction.

Ahead boulders loomed up. They were getting into a rough part of the mountains.

As Tom plodded around a bend in the road, past a big rock, he heard a low laugh.

"Oblige me, senores, by showing me how high you can reach in the air!" came a mocking voice.

Tom and Harry had both stepped around into the plain range of vision of Pedro Gato.

That scoundrel stood with rifle butt to his shoulder, his glance running along the barrel. The weapon covered them.

"Don't forget! Your hands, caballeros!" insisted Gato, jubilantly.

For a brief instant Tom Reade hesitated. He was doing some lightning calculating as to whether he would be able to spring forward under the rifle barrel and knock up the weapon.

But a second glance showed him that he could not hope to do it. Pedro Gato was completely master of the situation.

"For the third time—and the last, caballeros your hands! Up high!" commanded Gato exultantly.

"Now, stand just so, until I get back of you," ordered Gato. "Do not attempt any tricks, and do not turn to look back at me. If you do I shall pull the trigger—once and again. This rifle shoots fast."

While talking Gato had placed himself to the rear of his captives, who, with hands up, remained facing ahead.

"Do you want us to keep our hands up forever?" demanded Tom Reade, gruffly.

"To take them down will be the signal for death," replied Gato coolly. "Take your hands down, or turn this way, if you deem it best. Possibly you will prefer to die, for to-night's entertainment may strike you as being worse than death. The matter is within your own choice, wholly, caballeros. Perhaps on the whole it would be far better for you to lower your hands and die."

"Cut out the thrills and the mock-comedy, Gato, and tell us what else you want us to do," Tom urged, stiffly.

"Oho! My Gringo wild-cat is much tamer, isn't he?" sneered Gato. "But he shall be tamer still before the night is over. Now—are you listening?"

Harry made no sign, but Tom shrugged his shoulders.

"Keep your noses pointed the same way. March!" commanded Gato.



CHAPTER XIV

NEXT TO THE TELEGRAPH KEY

Tom and Harry started along the trail, side by side.

Something whizzed through the air. Then something struck the earth heavily, and there was a slight, quickly repressed groan.

"Quick, caballeros!"

For the life of him Tom could not help halting and wheeling about. The next second he uttered a low cry of glee.

For Pedro Gato lay flat on the ground, Nicolas bending over him.

"Quick, caballeros!" implored Nicolas again.

"You fine chap," chuckled Reade, bounding back and bending over Gato, as Nicolas was doing.

"There was no other way to save you," whispered the servant. "I had to do it."

As Nicolas raised his right hand, Reade could not help seeing that it was stained with blood.

"See here," gasped Tom, recoiling. "You didn't—you didn't knife the scoundrel?"

He had all of an American's disgust of knife-fighting.

"Oh, no—not I," returned the little Mexican. "I do not use the knife. I am a servant, not a coward. But I had to throw a stone. I am thankful, senor, that my aim was good."

Tom now discovered that blood was coming from a wound in Gato's head. Moreover, the rascal was beginning to moan. He would soon recover consciousness.

"Do you know how to use this, senor?" Nicolas asked, as he passed over a small coil of stout hempen cord.

"I think we can fix the fellow," Tom nodded. "Roll him over, Harry, and hold him. Don't let the scoundrel reach for any other weapons."

Gato's rifle lay on the ground. Tom pushed it aside with one foot as Harry turned the fellow.

"Get his hands behind him," muttered Tom. "I'll do the tying."

In a very short space of time Gato's hands had been securely bound behind him. More cord was tied around his ankles, in such a way that Gato would be able to take short steps but not run.

Suddenly Gato groaned and opened his eyes.

"You'll be more comfortable on your back, old fellow," murmured Tom. "Wait. I'll turn you."

Gato stared blankly, at first. Evidently he did not realize the situation all at once. At last a curse leaped to his lips.

"Go easy on that bad-talk stuff," Tom urged him. "Gentlemen don't use such language, and men who travel with us must be gentlemen."

"You miserable Gringo!" wailed Gato, gnashing his teeth. "You will always be full of treacherous tricks. Even when I had you in front of me, and my eyes on you, you managed to knock me down."

"Oh, no!" laughed Tom. "The credit for this stunt belongs to good little Nicolas!"

The servant uttered a protesting cry, but too late. Tom had spoken indiscreetly.

"Nicolas! You? You little mountain rat of a peon!" growled Gato. "Excellent! I am glad I know, for I shall destroy you."

Nicolas cowered and shivered before the baleful glare in the larger Mexican's eyes. But Tom took a savage grip of one of Gato's shoulders, digging in with his pressure until he made the scoundrel wince.

"You'd better go slow with that talk, Gato," Tom warned him. "If you don't we'll turn you over to Nicolas to do with as he pleases."

"All right," sneered Gato, not a whit dismayed. "He would dare to do nothing to me. He would be too afraid of the vengeance that he well knows stalks in these hills."

"It is all too true," shuddered Nicolas.

"Come, brace up, Nicolas, and be a man," Tom urged, slapping the servant cordially on the shoulder. "Don't be afraid of any man. Let Gato threaten you if he wants to. Nothing has happened to you yet, and he who is afraid is the only man that suffers. Come, Gato, you will have to get up on your feet. We can't let you delay us."

"I shall not stir a step," declared the fellow, grimly.

"Oh, yes, you will."

"Not if you kill me for refusing. If you wish to take me anywhere, Gringos, you will have to carry me every step of the way."

"We won't carry you, either," Tom continued, coolly. "Gato, a few moments ago, you had the whip-hand. Now, we're carrying the whip. We don't want any nonsense. If you carry matters too far you'll discover that Hazelton and I have had more or less experience as wild animal trainers. But, first of all, your head. It must be attended to."

Tom wiped away the blood, which was now clotting, with his own handkerchief.

"Help me to stand him on his feet, Harry," Reade then commanded.

Between them they dragged the heavy fellow to his feet, but Gato promptly cast himself down again.

"We'll haul you up again," Tom went on, patiently. "Don't try that mulish trick any more, Gato, or I promise you that you'll regret it."

No sooner had he been placed on his feet than. Gato once more threw himself down. As soon as he went down, however, Tom jerked him to his feet.

A roar like that of an angry bull escaped the lips of the suffering Mexican.

"He is trying to summon his men!" cried Nicolas, snatching up the rifle.

No sooner was Gato upright than he threw himself down once more.

Again he was roughly jerked to a standing position.

The fourth time that Gato was placed on his feet he stood, though he was shaking with fury.

"That's a little better," Tom nodded. "Now, Nicolas, I imagine you know more than I do about where your countrymen carry their extra arms. Search this fellow for weapons, and don't overlook anything."

No pistol was revealed by the search, but a long, keen-edged knife was brought to light.

"No gentleman has any occasion to carry a thing like that," mocked Reade. Thrusting the blade into a cleft of rock close by, Tom snapped the blade, rendering the weapon useless.

"Now, we're ready to go on," announced Tom. "Harry, will you keep behind our guest of the evening and spur him on if he shows signs of lagging?"

"Take this gun, Senor Reade," Nicolas hinted, trying to pass the weapon to the young chief engineer.

"I don't want it," returned Tom, shaking his head and making a gesture of repulsion. "I don't like guns. They always make me nervous. I'm afraid of accidents, you see."

"You take the gun, then, Senor Hazelton," begged Nicolas, turning to the other engineer.

"Don't you believe it," retorted Harry, gruffly. "I'd lose caste forever with Tom if I carried firearms. Tom says that nobody but a coward will carry firearms. You keep the gun yourself."

"Muy bien, senor," (very good, sir) agreed Nicolas, meekly. "It is better that I should carry the weapon then, for I am truly worthless. I am but a peon."

"Oh, confound you!" choked Harry. "I didn't mean that. You're one of the best fellows on earth, Nicolas, for you're a man that can be trusted. Better unstrap that belt of cartridges from Gato, too."

The big Mexican ground his teeth and cursed in helpless rage while the little servant stripped him of the belt and adjusted it about his own waist.

"Now, let's get along," Reade urged. "We've been losing a lot of valuable time. Besides, we don't know when we'll run into some of this mountain pirate's choice friends."

Tom strode on ahead. Nicolas ran to his side, walking with him. Then came Gato, urged on by Harry Hazelton.

"See here, you Nicolas," remarked Tom, protestingly, "why on earth didn't you stay put? We left you behind to-night so that you wouldn't run into trouble with Don Luis."

"Don Luis himself told me to wait on your excellencies night and day, as long as you remained in Bonista," Nicolas affirmed, solemnly. "Don Luis hasn't yet changed those orders, and so I must remain with you. But I had flattered myself that just now I was of enough service to you so that you wouldn't be displeased."

"Displeased? Not a bit of it," muttered Tom. "But we didn't want you to get yourself into trouble on our account. Now, you've gone and written your name in Gato's bad books for certain."

"I have, senor," the peon admitted. "Gato will take delight in cutting my throat for me one of these days."

"Great Scott!" Reade gasped, shivering. "That's cheerful."

"So that, perhaps, senor," suggested the peon, slyly, "you will be willing to take me with you to your own country. Perhaps there, also, you will be able to give me work as your servant."

"Rest assured of one thing, Nicolas. If we can get you safely over on to the American side of the border we'll look after you properly."

"I am very grateful, senor," protested Nicolas, humbly.

"But we're a long way from the American border as yet," Tom went on.

"You will get there safely, senor," predicted the peon. "You are a great man, and you know how to do things."

"Well, for simple faith you're the limit, Nicolas, my boy. For one thing, though, it strikes me that our getting over the border, which is some hundreds of miles away, might be hindered if we have the tough luck to run into any of Gato's armed pals along this route."

"You do well to remind me, senor!" cried Nicolas, in a low tone, but one, nevertheless, which was full of self-reproach. "So much have I enjoyed my talk with you that I have been forgetting to look after your safety. Pardon me, senor. I will vanish, but I shall watch over you with the wide-open eyes of the panther."

In another instant Nicolas had vanished from the trail. Tom, however, did not worry. He knew that Nicolas was not far away, and that the little peon was doubtless as valuable a scout as their expedition could have.

"I wish I had asked him to unload that gun, though," Reade muttered to himself. "He's likely as not to hurt some one else beside the enemy with a stray bullet or two."

Three miles further on Tom, Harry and their prisoner halted, for on the rough road they were now becoming winded.

"I am near, senores," whispered a familiar voice, though Nicolas did not show himself over the rocks that concealed him.

"Yes," sneered Gato, harshly, "you are indeed near—near death, you silly little fool. Always before you have been safe because you were not a fighting man. But now you have taken to deeds of arms, and you shall take your chances whenever you stir in these mountains. For that matter you will surely be cut down before the dawn comes."

"That reminds me," muttered Tom. "We want to be farther from Don Luis before dawn arrives. Gato, oblige us by rising and joining in the hike."

Though Gato snarled, he allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet. Then, with alert Harry behind him the villain allowed himself to be ordered along the trail.

When dawn came Nicolas informed the young engineers that they were now within about four miles of the nearest telegraph station. The food that they had brought along was opened; even Gato had his share. Then Nicolas vanished once more, and the march was resumed.

The sun was well up, and beating down hot and fiery when Nicolas, standing on a jutting ledge of rock, pointed down into the valley at a little clump of wooden buildings, roofed with corrugated iron.

"That third house is the telegraph station," said the peon. "You will know it by the wires running in."

"Shan't we all go down?" asked Harry.

"I'm afraid it wouldn't be wise," Tom answered. "We can't turn our prisoner loose. On the other hand, if we took him with us, roped as he is, it might stir up a lot of questioning and make some trouble. But Nicolas will know better. What do you say, my boy?"

"I say that Senor Reade is right."

Tom therefore started down into the valley alone. A few half-clad natives lounged in the street. They stared curiously at this stalwart-looking, bronzed young Gringo who walked toward them with alert step.

Two or three of the children, after the custom of their kind, called out for money. Tom, smiling pleasantly, drew forth a few loose American coins that he had with him and scattered them in the road. Then he hastened on to the telegraph station, a squalid-looking little one-room shanty. But the place looked good to Tom, for its wires reached out over the civilized world, and more especially ran to the dear old United States that he was so anxious to reach with a few words.

Tom passed inside, to find a bare-footed, white-clad Mexican soldier at a telegraph desk. The soldier wore the chevrons of a sergeant.

"Sergeant, may I send a telegram from here?" Tom inquired in Spanish.

"Certainly, senor," replied the sergeant, pushing forward a blank. As this telegraph station was a military station, it was under the exclusive control of the soldiery.

Tom picked up the blank and the proffered pencil. He dated the paper, then wrote the name and address of the manager of his and Harry's engineering office in the United States. Below this Reade wrote:

"Hazelton and I are now endeavoring to reach railway and return immediately. If not heard from soon, look us up promptly through Washington."

"Our man will know, from this, if he doesn't hear from us soon," Tom reflected, "that there has been foul play, and that he must turn the matter over to the United States Government at Washington for some swift work by Uncle Sam on our behalf. Once this message gets through to the other end, Harry and I won't have to worry much about being able to get out of Mexico in safety."

The sergeant read the English words through carefully.

"Will the senor pardon me for saying," ventured the telegrapher, "that this message reads much as though yourself and a friend are trying to escape?"

The man spoke in English, though with a Spanish accent.

"What do you mean, Sergeant?" Tom queried, quickly.

"Why should you need to escape, if you are honest men, engaged in honest business?" demanded the sergeant, eyeing Reade keenly.

"Why, it isn't a felony to try to get out of Mexico, is it?" Tom counter-queried.

"That depends," said the sergeant. "It depends, for instance, on why you are leaving."

"We're leaving because we want to," Tom informed him.

"You are Senor Reade, are you not?" pressed the sergeant, after eyeing the telegram once more. "And your friend, who does not appear here in person, is Senor Hazelton? Unless I am wrong, then you are the two engineers whom Don Luis Montez engaged. How do I know that you have any right to leave Mexico? How do I know that you are not breaking a contract?"

"Breaking a contract?" Tom retorted, somewhat indignantly. "Sergeant, we are not contract laborers. We are civil engineers—professional men."

"Nevertheless," replied the sergeant, handing back the telegram into the hands of bewildered. Tom Reade, "I cannot undertake to send this message until it is endorsed with the written approval of Don Luis Montez, your employer."

"Does Don Luis own this side of Mexico, or this wing of the Mexican Army?" Tom inquired, with biting sarcasm.

"I cannot send the telegram, senor, except as I have stated."

Whereupon the sergeant began firmly, though gently, to push Tom out of the room. Comparing the size and muscular development of the two, it looked almost humorous to see this effort. But Tom, who now realized how hopeless his errand was, allowed himself to be pushed out. Then the door was slammed to and locked behind him.

"Nothing doing!" muttered Reade, in chagrin and dismay. "In fact, much less than nothing! Harry and I will simply have to tramp fifty miles further and find the railway. Great Scott! I doubt if the conductor will even let us aboard his train without a pass signed by Don Luis. Hang the entire state of Bonista!"

Deep in thought, and well-nigh overwhelmed by the complete realization of his defeat, Tom stalked moodily back up among the rocks.

As he turned a sharp, jutting ledge, Tom suddenly recoiled, as a brisk military voice called:

"Para! Quien vive!" (Halt! Who goes there?)

Reade found a Mexican military bayonet pressing against his chest, behind the bayonet a rifle, and to the immediate rear of the rifle a ragged, barefooted young soldier, though none the less a genuine Mexican soldier!

Further back other soldiers squatted on the ground. In their centre sat the scowling Gato, handcuffed and therefore plainly a prisoner.

Harry and Nicolas were also there—not handcuffed, yet quite as plainly prisoners.



CHAPTER XV

THE JOB OF BEING AN HIDALGO

"This must be a part of the army that Don Luis also owns!" flashed through Reade's mind.

From behind the group stepped forth a boyish-looking young fellow at whose side dangled a sword. He was a very young lieutenant.

"Are these your men?" inquired Tom.

"Yes," nodded the lieutenant.

"Why have they stopped me?" Tom demanded, calmly.

"On suspicion, senor."

"Suspicion of what?" demanded Reade, his eyes opening wider. "Is it suspicious for a foreigner to be walking about in Mexico?"

"I am not here to answer questions, senor," replied the young officer. "You will be good enough not to resist."

"I haven't any intention of resisting," Tom retorted. "I know better than to think that I can thrash the whole Mexican Army that is behind you."

"You are as sensible as I had hoped you would be, senor," continued the lieutenant, with a slight bow.

"But I wish you would tell us why you are holding us," Tom insisted.

"I am not obliged to tell you, senor, and I am not certain that it would be wise of me to do so," the officer answered. "However, I will say that I found your party with a Mexican citizen as a prisoner."

"And you seem to have made a prisoner of the same fellow yourself," Reade retorted.

"As an officer of the Mexican Army, senor, that is my privilege," came the lieutenant's response. "As to your right, however, to arrest and hold a Mexican citizen, there may be some question. I shall have to satisfy myself on this point before I can release you."

"Why, I'll be wholly frank with you," Tom Reade offered. "This fellow, Gato, is a rascal whom I had occasion to thrash. In revenge for the humiliation he has given me to understand that he would kill me. Last night he held us up at the point of his rifle. Our servant, Nicolas, threw a stone that bowled Gato over. Then, for our own safety, we tied him up and brought him with us."

"Why was it necessary to your safety, senor, since you had the fellow's rifle and his ammunition? You see, I have gained this much from your friend."

"Why was it necessary?" Tom repeated, wonderingly. "Why, Lieutenant, do you feel that we should have turned a deadly enemy loose?"

"But you had no right to arrest him, senor."

"Nor did we arrest him in the sense that you mean, Lieutenant. All we did was to render Gato helpless and bring him along with us until we should have passed out of the bit of country in which he might have been dangerous to our safety."

"How could he be dangerous when you had his weapon?" the lieutenant demanded, argumentatively.

"Why, he had other men out with him. How long would it have taken Gato to find his men and bring them down upon us—three or four guns against one?"

"But did you see his other men at any time in the night?"

"No," Tom admitted.

"Senor, you have made a grave mistake in arresting and holding the man, Gato. You had no right to do so."

"Why, in our own country," Tom protested, "any one may arrest a man who is committing a crime. In our own case we very likely would have lost our lives to bandits if we had not tied Gato and brought him with us."

"Had you tied him and left him behind it might have been different," explained the lieutenant. "But what you did, Senor Reade, was to make an actual arrest, and this you, as an American, had no right to do. Therefore, I shall hold you until this matter has been further inquired into."

It was a bad plight, and there seemed to be no simple way out of it. The young chief engineer began to see that, innocently, and wholly for the purpose of self-protection, he very likely had infringed upon the kinds of rights that foreigners in Mexico do not possess.

"All right, Lieutenant," sighed Tom. "I suppose we shall have to go along with you. Where are you taking us?"

"That will have to be decided," said the officer. "Nowhere for the presents my men are tired and need rest. We will not humiliate you, Senor Reade, by placing you in irons, but I will ask your word of honor that you won't attempt to escape from us."

"I give you that word of honor," said Tom, simply.

"And I have only to remind you, senor, that, if you make the mistake of breaking your word, bullets travel fast and several of my men are sharpshooters."

"I am an American and a gentleman," Reade returned, with offended dignity. "My word of honor is not given to be broken."

"Then you will seat yourself, senor, or stroll about and amuse yourself within the narrow limits of this small camp."

Tom stepped over, rested his hand on Harry's shoulder, then dropped to a seat beside his chum.

"Can you beat it?" Tom demanded, in ready American slang.

"It would be hard to, wouldn't it?" Harry asked, smiling sheepishly.

Pedro Gato turned to regard them with a surly grin. Though handcuffed, Gato seemed to feel that he was now enjoying his own innings.

For an hour or more the soldiers continued to rest. All of them, including the lieutenant, who sat stiffly aloof from his men, rolling and smoking cigarettes.

"I see a bully argument against cigarette smoking," whispered Tom in his chum's ear.

"What is it?" Harry wanted to know.

"All of these fellows are smoking cigarettes. I am proud of myself to feel that I don't belong in their class."

"A year ago Alf Drew would have felt at home in this cigarette-puffing, sallow-faced lot, wouldn't be?" grinned Harry.

"I am glad to say that Alf now knows how measly a cigarette smoker looks," answered Tom.

Alf Drew, as readers of the preceding volume will remember, was a boy addicted to cigarettes, but whom Tom had broken of the stupid habit. Alf was now employed in the engineering offices of Reade & Hazelton.

"There's something coming," announced Reade, presently. "It sounds like a miniature railroad train."

"I wish it were a real one, and that we had our baggage aboard," muttered Harry, with a grimace.

One of the sentries had gone to intercept the approaching object. Instead the soldier now permitted the approaching object to roll into camp. It proved to be Don Luis's big touring car. In the tonneau sat the mine owner and Dr. Carlos Tisco.

"What is this, Senor Reade?" cried Don Luis Montez, in pretended astonishment. "In trouble? Lieutenant, these gentlemen are friends of mine. May I ask you what this means?"

Tom was not deceived by this by-play. He snorted mildly while the young army lieutenant explained why he had detained the engineers.

"But these gentlemen are friends and employes," Don Luis explained. "What they tell you about Gato is quite true. Will you oblige me by releasing these gentlemen, Lieutenant."

The young officer seemed to hesitate.

"It's all a part of the comedy," whispered Tom, and Harry nodded.

"I—I will let these Americanos go, for the present, Don Luis," suggested the lieutenant, "provided you will take them back to your estate, and agree to be responsible for them if they are wanted.

"Thank you very much, Lieutenant. I will readily undertake that," agreed Montez, smiling. "Then come, Senores Reade and Hazelton, and I will interrupt my journey to take you back to safety under a hospitable roof."

"I don't know that I wouldn't rather go with the soldiers," Harry muttered to his chum.

"No!" murmured Reade. "I've heard too much about these Mexican prisons to care anything about going to one. I reckon we'd better go with Don Luis. After we've rid ourselves of military guard, and have reached the Montez estate, we are at least released from our word of honor not to attempt an escape. I guess, Harry, we had better take up with Don Luis's rascally offer."

"Well, caballeros, does it need much discussion to enable you to accept my kindness?" called Montez, banteringly.

"Not at all, Don Luis," Tom made answer. "We're going with you—with the lieutenant's consent."

The young lieutenant bowed his agreement. Tom and Harry lifted their hats lightly to the officer, then stepped into the tonneau of the car.

"Home," said Don Luis.

The chauffeur made a quick turn, and the car speedily left the camp behind.

"I have often heard, gentlemen, that foreigners have difficulty in understanding our laws," observed Don Luis. He spoke affably, but mockery lurked in his tones. "Without realizing it you two have committed a serious offense against our laws. You have ventured to arrest a Mexican citizen."

Nicolas, who sat in front with the chauffeur, sat as stiff and silent as though he had been a figure of stone.

"What will be the outcome of this adventure, under the law?" Tom inquired, dryly.

"It would need one of our judges to say that," replied Don Luis, shrugging his shoulders. "However, I may be able to arrange the matter with the authorities."

"And, if you can't arrange it—?"

"Why, then, I dare say, my friends, you will have to be arrested again. Then you would be taken to one of our prisons until your trial came off. You might even be held incommunicado, which means that, as prisoners, you would not be allowed to communicate with the outside world—not even with your American government."

"And how long would we be held incommunicado?" Tom asked.

Don Luis gave another shrug of his shoulders.

"You would be held incommunicado, Senor Reade, until the judges were ready to try you."

"And that might be years off," Tom muttered.

Don Luis beamed delightedly, while a thin smile curled on Dr. Tisco's lips.

"You are beginning, senor, to get some grasp of Mexican law," laughed Montez.

"In other words, Don Luis," said Tom, dryly, "it's a game wherein you can't possibly lose, and we can remain out of prison only as long as you are gracious enough to will it?"

"That might be rather a strong way of stating the case," murmured the Mexican. "However, after your unlawful act of last night, you undoubtedly are liable to a long confinement in one of our prisons. But believe me, Senor Reade, you may command me as far as my humble influence with our government goes!"

The situation was certainly one to make Tom think hard. He was certain that Don Luis had engineered the whole situation, even to urging Gato on to a part in this grin drama.

"Well, you've got us!" sighed Tom.

"You will find me your best friend, always," protested Montez.

"You have us," Tom continued, "but you haven't our signatures to the report on your mine. That is going to be more difficult."

"Time heals all breaches between gentlemen who should be friends," declared Don Luis, quite graciously.

After that it was a silent party that rode in the touring car. Though the road back to the estate was worthy of no such name as road, the big car none the less "ate up the miles." It was not long before the young engineers caught sight of the big white house.

"Come, gentlemen," begged Don Luis, alighting, and turning to the young engineers with a courtly grace that concealed a world of mockery. "You will find your rooms ready, and my household ready to minister to your comfort."

Tom Reade, as he stepped upon the porch, drew himself up as stiffly as any American soldier could have done.

"We've had to come this far with you, Don Luis," admitted the young engineer, dropping all his former pretense of dry good humor, "but you can't make us live under your roof unless you go so far as to have us seized, tied and carried in."

"I have no intention of being anything but a gracious friend and host," murmured Montez.

"Then, while we probably must stay here," Tom resumed, "we'll leave your place and go to live somewhere in the open near you. We can accept neither your house nor your food."

"Very good," answered Montez, meekly, bowing again. "I will only suggest, caballeros, that you do not attempt to go too far from my house. If you do, the soldiers will surely find you. Then they will not bring you back to me, and you will learn what incommunicado means in our Mexican law. Adios, caballeros!"

"Am I still the servant of the American gentlemen, Don Luis?" asked Nicolas, humbly.

"You may go with them. They will need you, little Nicolas," answered Don Luis, and watched the three out of sight with smiling eyes.

Montez could afford to be cheerful. He knew that he had triumphed.



CHAPTER XVI

TWO VICTIMS OF ROSY THOUGHTS

"There is one thing about it," remarked Reade, as he rose and stood at the doorway of the tent. "We're not being overworked."

"Nor are we getting awfully rich, as the weeks go by, either," smiled Harry.

"No; but we're puppets in a game that interests me about as much as any that I ever saw played," Tom smiled back.

"This game—interests you?" queried Harry, looking astonished. "That is a new idea to me, Tom. I never knew you to be interested, before, in any game that wasn't directly connected with some great ambition."

"We have a great ambition at present."

"I'd like to know what it is," grumbled Harry. "It's three weeks since that scoundrel, Don Luis, brought us back in triumph. We refused to enter his house as guests, and started to camp in the open in these two old tents that Nicolas secured for us. In all these three weeks we haven't done a tap of work. We haven't studied, or read because we have no books. We sleep, eat, and then sleep some more. When we get tired of everything else we go out and trudge over the hills, being careful not to get too far, lest we run into the guns of Gato and his comrades, for undoubtedly Gato was turned loose as soon as he was lost to our sight. We don't do anything like work, and we're not even arranging any work for the future. Yet you say that you're boosting your ambitions."

"I am," Tom nodded solemnly. "Harry, isn't it just as great an ambition to be an honest engineer as it is to be a highly capable one?"

"Of course."

"Don't capitalists usually invest large sums on a favorable report from engineers?"

"Often."

"And, if the engineers were dishonest the capitalists would lose their money, wouldn't they?"

"Certainly."

"Then here's our ambition, and we're working it out—finely, too," Tom went on, with much warmth. "Don Luis has a scheme to rob some people of a large sum of money by selling them a worthless mine in a country where there are several good ones. If he could get us to help him, to our own dishonor, Don Luis Montez would succeed in swindling this company of men. Harry, we're just lying around here, day after day, doing no hard work, but we're blocking Don Luis's game and saving money for honest men. Don Luis doesn't care to have us assassinated, for he still hopes to break down our resistance. He can't bring the capitalists here to meet us until we do give in, and so the game lags for Don Luis. He can't bring in other engineers, for they'd meet us and we would post them. The American engineer must be a serious problem for Don Luis. He thought he could buy almost any of us. Our conduct has made him afraid that American engineers can't be bought. Evidently he must have his report signed by American engineers of repute, which means that he is trying to sell his worthless mine to Americans. Harry, we're teaching Don Luis to respect the honesty of American engineers; we're saving some of our countrymen from being swindled, probably out of thousands of dollars; we're proving that the American engineer is honest, and we're discouraging rascals everywhere from employing us in crooked work. Now, honestly, isn't all that ambition enough to hold us for a few weeks?"

"I suppose so," Harry agreed. "But what is the end of all this to be. Won't Don Luis merely have us assassinated in the end, if we go on proving stubborn?"

"He may," Tom answered, pressing his lips grimly. "But, if he does, he'll pay heavily for his villainy."

"How?"

"Every man has to pay for his sins."

"That's what we were taught in Sunday school," Harry nodded, "and I've always believed it. Yet here, in these remote mountains of the state of Bonista, if anywhere, Don Luis would appear to be safe. If a few of his men crept up here, late some night, with pistols or knives, and finished us before we had time to wake up, do you imagine that any one hereabouts would dare to make any report of the matter? Would our fate ever reach the outside world?"

"It would be sure to, in time, I believe," Tom answered, thoughtfully.

"How?"

"That I can't tell. But I believe in the invariable triumph of right, no matter how great the odds against it may seem."

"Let right triumph, after we're buried," continued Harry, "and what good would it do us?"

"None, in any ordinary material sense. Yet good would come to the world through our fate, even if only in proclaiming, once more, the sure defeat of all wicked plans in the end."

Harry said no more, just then. Tom Reade, who ordinarily was intensely practical, was also the kind of young man who could perish for an ideal, if need be. Tom went outside, stretching himself on the grass under a tree. He sighed for a book, but there was none, so he lay staring off over the valley below.

Twenty minutes later Harry, after trying vainly to take a nap on a cot in the tent, followed his chum outside.

"Odd, isn't it, Tom?" questioned Hazelton. "We're living what looks like a wholly free life. Nothing to prevent us from tramping anywhere we please on these hills, and yet we know to a certainty that we wouldn't be able to get twenty miles from here before soldiers would have us nabbed, and marching away to a prison from which, very likely, no one in the outside world would ever hear of us again."

"It is queer," agreed Tom, nodding. "Oh, just for one glimpse of Yankee soil!"

"Twice," went on Harry, "we've even persuaded Nicolas to bribe some native to take a letter from us, to be mailed at some distant point. After two or three days Don Luis, in each instance, has come here, and, with a smile, has shown us our own intercepted letter. Yet Nicolas has been honest in the matter, beyond a doubt. It is equally past question that the native whom Nicolas has trusted and paid has made an honest attempt to get away and post our letter; but always the cunning of a Montez overtakes the trusted messenger."

"And one can only guess what has happened to the messengers," Tom said, soberly. "Undoubtedly both of the two poor fellows are now passing the days incommunicado. It makes a fellow a bit heartsick, doesn't it, chum, to think of the probable fates of two men who have tried to serve us. And what, in the end, is to be the fate of poor little Nicolas? Don Luis Montez is not the sort of man to forgive him his fidelity to us."

"And where's Nicolas, all this time?" suddenly demanded Harry, glancing at his watch. "Why, the fellow hasn't been here for three hours! Where can he be?"

"Quien sabe?" responded Reade, using the common Spanish question, given with a shrug, which means, "Who knows! Who can guess?"

"Can Nicolas have fallen into any harm?" asked Hazelton, a new note of alarm in his voice. "The poor, faithful little fellow! It gives me a shiver to think of his suffering an injury just because he serves us so truly."

"I shall be interested in seeing him get back," Tom nodded thoughtfully.

"And I'm beginning to have a creepy feeling that he won't come back!" cried Harry. "He may at this moment be past human aid, Tom, and that may be but the prelude to our own craftily-planned destruction."

Tom Reade sat up, leaning on one elbow, as he regarded his chum with an odd smile.

"Harry," Tom uttered, dryly, "we certainly have no excuse for being blue when we have such rosy thoughts to cheer us up!"

"Hang Mexico!" grunted Hazelton.



CHAPTER XVII

THE STRANGER IN THE TENT

By and by Tom Reade began to grow decidedly restless. He would sit up, look and listen, and then lie down again. Then he would fidget about nervously, all of which was most unusual with him, for Reade's was one of those strong natures that will endure work day and night as long as is necessary, and then go in for complete rest when there is nothing else to do.

Harry did not observe this, for he had gone back into the tent. Two sheets of a Mexican newspaper had come wrapped around one of Nicolas's last food purchases. Hazelton was reading the paper slowly by way of improving his knowledge of Spanish.

At last Tom called, in a low voice:

"Don't worry about me, chum, if you miss me. I'm going to take a little stroll."

"All right, Tom."

Reade did not hurry away. He had to remember that in all probability he was being watched. So he strolled about as though he had no particular purpose in mind. Yet, after some minutes, he gained a point from which he could gaze down the hill-slope toward the little village of huts in which the mine laborers lived.

There were a few small children playing about the one street that ran through the village. A few of the women were out of doors, also, but none of the men were in sight, for these were toiling away at the mine. Though El Sombrero had so far shown no ore that amounted to anything, Don Luis, while waiting to sell his mine for a fortune, kept his peons working hard in the hope that they might strike some real ore.

After Tom had been gazing for three or four minutes his eves suddenly lighted, for he saw Nicolas come out of one of the huts.

"I wonder what has kept the little fellow so long," Tom murmured. But he turned away with an appearance of listlessness, for, if he were observed, he did not care to have a watcher note his interest in the servant's coming.

So Nicolas passed on toward the tents without having observed Reade.

"I won't get back too soon," Tom decided. "If we are watched at all it wouldn't do to have me appear too much interested in the peon's doings."

Now that his mind was somewhat easier, Tom strolled on once more. His roundabout path took him along among the rocks that littered the ground over the principal tunnels of El Sombrero. Hundreds of feet beneath him now toiled some of the peons who lived in the village of huts yonder.

Presently Reade increased his speed considerably, deciding that now it would be safe to return directly to camp. Suddenly he stopped short, head up, his gaze directed at the tops of three or four rocks. Some human being had just dodged out of sight at that point.

Tom felt a swift though brief chill. Something had made him suspect that the prowler might be Gato, or one of the latter's companions.

Instead of running away Tom made for the place of hiding in short leaps.

"Hold on there a minute, my friend," Tom called in Spanish. "I think it may be worth my while to look you over."

Just as Reade was ready to bound over the rocks a figure rose as though to meet him. A light leap landed Reade on top of the stranger, who was borne to earth.

"Mercy senor!" begged the other. "Do not be rough with me. I am not strong enough to stand it."

The man spoke Spanish and was well past middle age, of a very spare figure, and his face was very thin, although there was a deep flush on his cheeks.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Tom in Spanish. He touched the stranger's cheeks, which were hot with fever.

Then Tom slid off his poor captive and squatted beside him. Reaching for the man's left wrist and resting two fingers on his pulse, Tom added, gently:

"Tell me all about it, senor."

"There is not much to tell," panted the stranger, weakly, for Tom's landing on him had jarred him severely. "I am sick, as you can see."

"Oh, that isn't much," said Tom, blithely. "With decent care you will soon he well. It is plain that you are a gentleman—no peon. Yonder, some distance, is a house where I think you are very likely to be well taken care of. Don Luis Montez—"

Despite the hectic flush in the cheeks, the stranger's face paled visibly. Tom, always observant, noted this.

"Oh, I see," Reade went on, calmly. "You do not like Don Luis Montez, or you do not care about going to his house."

The stranger gazed up wistfully at the young engineer's kindly face.

"Senor," he asked, "you would not betray me?"

"You mean to Don Luis?"

A weak nod was the answer.

"Rest easy on that score, my friend," Tom begged, dryly. "Don Luis and I are not on the best of terms. I do not like him very well myself."

"Will you help to hide me here, and then go away and be silent?"

"Go away and leave you here?" suggested Reade.

"Yes, senor. It will be a great favor."

"It would be murder," Tom retorted. "Man, you're ill and you need care—nursing. I don't know much about doctoring, but if you have any reason why you don't want Don Luis to know you're here, then I'll do the best I can for you here. I have a chum who'll help me. You have been traveling for some time?" Tom continued, his glance taking in the stranger's well-worn shoes and trousers.

"That is true, yes," nodded the stranger.

"You've been over a rough road, also," Tom continued, "and now you're ill. Your pulse is a hundred and twenty, and you're breathing thirty-two times to the minute. You must have a good bed, be covered comfortably and have plenty of water to drink while we're getting some medicines for you."

"You are indeed kind, but I fear," protested the stranger, "that you will attract attention my way, and then I shall be captured."

Tom studied the face of the sick man keenly.

"I wish you would tell me something about yourself," the young engineer hinted. "It might help me to decide what it is best to do for you."

"Senor," begged the stranger, with a start of dread "it would be a great kindness to me if you would go away and leave me here. Do not come back—and forget that you have seen me."

"It can't be done," replied Tom, with gentle positiveness. "It wouldn't be in American nature to go away and leave a fellow creature to die of helplessness when a little care and nursing ought to put that man on his feet again. But I won't argue with you, for I see the excitement is bringing a deeper flush into your face. Senor, as you are a gentleman trust another gentleman to serve you loyally and not betray you. I am going to leave you for a little while. Will you give me your word to remain here until I return?"

"Yes," nodded the other, weakly.

"I'll wrap this around you," Reade continued, taking off his own blouse and wrapping it around the thin body of the older man. "This will help you a little if you are taken with chills. I shall be back as soon as I can possibly come without attracting attention. Do not be startled if you hear other footsteps than my own. I shall bring with me a friend. I would trust in his hands anything or all that I have in the world. Will you trust me to serve you, senor?"

"I shall trust you," promised the other, simply. "In truth, my young friend, I have many reasons why I could wish to recover of this illness and be well again."

Tom slipped away, then rose to his full height, and resumed his late appearance of lounging along without an object. As he neared the camp he espied Nicolas, whom he had forgotten.