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 b.u.t.t 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.