os and threes, for the road was fairly
wide. There was no air of discipline about the party, nothing to indicate
that it was of a military character. As they came opposite the fugitives,
who had struck off the road at a right angle, they stopped, in obedience
to a signal from one of the two riding ahead.

"They've seen us!" breathed Clara.

"And are wondering whether we're worth while," supplemented Hard. "Ah,
here they come!"

The result of the conference reached, the two leaders of the party
followed by half a dozen men struck off toward Clara and Hard. The others
waited in the road. They came at a good gait, their badly fed horses
responding to the ugly spur with a nervous speed which covered the hilly
space in seconds where Hard and Clara had taken minutes to crawl.

"I'm afraid they're not troops," observed Hard. "They wouldn't take all
that trouble for a pair of strangers. It's Angel, or someone of his sort.
Well?"

"Well?" Clara smiled bravely. "There's nothing to do but wait. Better let
me talk to them; I have the language better in hand, I think. If it's
money they want we may as well give them what we have to buy our
freedom."

"By all means." Hard grinned. "I've got ten dollars. It won't buy
much--even of freedom, I'm afraid."

"Most of mine is in express checks, tucked away in a sheltered spot," said
Clara, frowning. "I don't believe they'd want them--Pachuca didn't.
However, I have a little to offer." She handed him her handbag.

Angel Gonzales, closely followed by Porfirio Cortes, drew up beside the
odd-looking couple sitting by the wayside. The other men lingered within
hearing. Angel opened the conversation in his native tongue.

"Who are you and where are you going?" he demanded, his shifty black eyes
gleaming from his weather-beaten face.

"And why?" growled Cortes. "When the country is upset, the place for
foreigners is at home."

"Yes, we know it is," said Clara, placatingly. "But your country, you
know, is almost always upset. This gentleman, Senor Hard, is connected
with the mining company at Athens. I am from the South, and on my way to
the border."

"Where are your horses?" said Angel, suspiciously.

"A young man named Juan Pachuca raided the ranch where we were visiting
and took all the livestock," replied Clara, eyeing the swarthy fellow
quietly.

There was a hurried colloquy between the two Mexicans and a laugh from
Gonzales.

"You are not going toward Athens," he observed,