"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 cla.s.s."

"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.