SHOTS AT THE STATION
"Boys," said Mr. Temple, when the Temple home, a short distance from
the Hampton place, was reached, "come into the library with me. I want
to have a serious talk with you."
Obediently, Bob and Frank filed into the room and sat down in deep
leather armchairs, while Mr. Temple sat back in a swinging chair by
his broad, flat-topped desk. Selecting a cigar from the humidor at his
elbow, he lighted it and puffed thoughtfully several moments before
addressing the chums.
"First of all," he said at the conclusion of this period of silence,
"I've decided that we will not notify the police of this affair."
"Why not, Dad?" demanded Bob in surprise.
"We want to keep this matter to ourselves until we can see more
clearly what it means," explained Mr. Temple. "We recovered what was
stolen, anyhow. But more than that, I begin to suspect there is
something more behind all this than mere business rivalry between the
independent oil operators and the Trust."
"What do you mean, Uncle George?" asked Frank, puzzled.
"Well, boys, I'll tell you," said Mr. Temple, speaking deliberately
and thoughtfully. "In the first place I know the men at the head of
the so-called Octopus. They are keen business men and quick to seize
every legitimate advantage. But they are above such unscrupulous
tactics as this.
"I know the signs point to them as the instigator of our troubles at
Mr. Hampton's camp and then here today. But those signs point to
something else, too. If you will recall, Jack said the fellows who
raided the Hamptons today, or rather tried to do so but failed, were
Mexicans. And this man who entered the Hampton house today was a
Mexican, too. What was his name, Frank?"
"Morales. Jose Morales," said Frank, promptly.
"Yes, Jose Morales," said Mr. Temple. "Well, I believe that certain
Mexicans are responsible for our troubles, and not our business
rivals, at all."
"What in the world?" said Bob, puzzled.
"But why, Uncle George?" demanded Frank.
"In order to make trouble between the United States and Mexico," said
Mr. Temple, promptly.
"Oh," said Bob, "I begin to see what you're driving at. You mean,
then, that by attacking the independents in the Southwest these
Mexicans would get us so stirred up that Uncle Sam would take a hand
to protect our properties, and might even send troops to the border?"
"That's exactly what I mean, Bob," said Mr. Temple approvingly.
"But in that case, Uncle George," demanded Frank, "why wouldn't the
Mexicans be making trouble for the Octopus, too?"
"Because, Frank," explained the older man, "the properties throughout
the region where we are located are mainly held by independent
operators. The Octopus is trying to gobble us up, but it hasn't
succeeded, and won't if we can prevent. But, just the same, it isn't
there for the Mexicans to attack. If they want to harass anybody in
the hope of getting the United States Government to intervene, they
must attack us and our friends and allies."
"Yes, I see that now," said Frank, nodding. "But what makes you think
the Mexicans want to get into a war with Uncle Sam?"
"They don't particularly yearn to come to blows with us, Frank," said
Mr. Temple. "And not all Mexicans are involved, if my suspicions are
correct, but only a faction. You see, boys, General Obregon has been
President of Mexico now for several years, but the country is far from
pacified and far from submitting to his rule. The rebel forces in the
northern part of Mexico are gaining in strength right along. One of
these days they will be in open revolution.
"Now these Mexicans who want to depose Obregon would like to get him
into trouble with the United States in the hope that what they desire
would then come to pass."
"I begin to understand you," said Bob, with more animation than usual.
"You mean the rebels would like to stir up trouble on the border and
get Obregon into hot water with Uncle Sam in just the same way that
Pancho Villa some years ago made trouble between our government and
Carranza by his raid on Columbus, New Mexico?"
"That's it, Bob," said his father.
"Gee, Dad," cried Bob. "This time, if there's a war, I'm going to
enlist, believe me."
"Same here, Uncle George," declared Frank. "Bob and I could go as
aviators."
"Hurray for the young aviators of the Rio Grande," cried Bob, swinging
his arm like a cheer leader of the school team.
"You boys don't know what you're talking about," said Mr. Temple, but
with an indulgent smile. "I should imagine you would have read enough
of the horrors of war during the past few years to make you never want
to see a battlefield or shoot a gun at a man."
"That's right, Uncle George," said the sensitive Frank, shuddering as
he recalled some of the things he had read of Europe's devastation.
"No, boys," said Mr. Temple, "if I am right about this, we'll have
something more important to do than to fight battles or track bandits
across the Mexican desert by airplane."
"What?" chorused the chums.
"Instead of making war," said Mr. Temple slowly, "we'll have to
prevent it."
"Righto, Uncle George," cried Frank, springing up. "When do we pack?"
"Young man, you're in a hurry, aren't you?" smiled Mr. Temple. "Well,
boys, I believe that by day after tomorrow I can have my affairs in
order so that I can leave them for awhile. Then we'll start. That is,
of course, if you'll carry me as a passenger."
"Will we carry him?" said Bob, striding to his side. "Good old Dad."
And he thumped his father on the shoulder, a resounding blow that made
the older man grimace humorously and draw away from him.
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Frank opened the door to
find a maid standing in the passage. She was trembling with
excitement.
"Oh, Mister Frank," she gasped. "I heard several shots. Seemed like
they came from the radiophone station of Mr. Hampton's. I'm so worried
about Tom."
"That's right, Tom's your sweetheart, isn't he?" said Frank. The maid
blushed. Frank re-entered the room, and explained the maid's message
practically all in one breath.
"We were talking so much that we didn't hear the reports, I suppose,"
said Mr. Temple, jumping up and snatching at his hat. The boys already
were at the door but he called them back. "This time," he said grimly,
"I'm not going to have you taking any chances on being killed. You
will wait for me, and please remember it." Opening a drawer, he drew
out a heavy automatic, broke it open to assure himself it was loaded,
and then dropped it in his coat pocket. "All right now," he said.
"Let's go."