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!"