ectfully. "_Si_, Senor Capitan Montoya."

"Good. You will stand aside. I am inspecting Senor Guevara's mine." He
stalked through as though there was not the slightest question that the
peons would allow it. The boys and the police officers followed on his
heels.

A shelter had been erected on one side of the volcanic pipe. Only blue
ground showed, and there was a power scoop digging out more. Watching
the shovel were Guevara and Brad Connel.

Montoya walked up to the pair before they were even aware of his
presence.

"Good afternoon, senores," he greeted them courteously.

Guevara snapped, "What are you doing here, Montoya?"

"Arresting you, senor," Montoya replied calmly.

Connel looked worried, but Guevara gestured toward the ring of men with
rifles. "Don't be a fool. We outnumber you five to one. You haven't a
chance."

Captain Montoya smiled affably. "But, senor, it is you who haven't a
chance. Consider, senor. The honor of the Montoyas requires that I take
you to my uncle, eh? Well, I allow the chance that perhaps I will not
survive to take you to my uncle, but I can assure you that you will
become a lifeless body on the instant a rifle is raised. Surely you do
not doubt me, senor?"

Guevara looked at the officer, looked at the capable hand on the cocked
gun in the holster. Then he looked into the fierce Montoya eyes, and his
swarthy face turned pale.

"Not even a Montoya would throw his life away for so small a thing," he
said harshly.

The captain smiled gently. "Call my bluff, senor."

Rick had no doubt whatever that Montoya was not bluffing. Apparently
Guevara was convinced, too. But he tried once more. "How do you expect
to get us out of here?"

"Simplicity itself. You will walk to my truck, arm in arm with Senor
Connel. That is all. Of course if you should be so unfortunate as to
have a peon lift his rifle, you would never reach the truck alive. But
perhaps you are lucky. Shall we try, senor?"

Guevara hesitated, then shrugged. "Very well."

Connel spoke for the first time. He demanded hoarsely, "Are you going to
let him get away with this when our men have all the rifles?"

Guevara smiled wryly. "You do not know the Montoyas, Brad. Call his
bluff yourself--only not if you wish to live."

The ex-lieutenant governor walked slowly toward the ring of men. After a
moment Connel joined him. Montoya stepped behind them as though taking a
stroll through the Calor public gardens. The ring opened