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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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?"