Bah!"

"That's all right," Billie agreed, "if it's the way you feel
about it."

"Just because you Americans have driven away a few soldiers with
the guns of your great fleet, you don't think you can conquer
Mexico, do you?"

"I hadn't thought much about it."

"Then it's time you did, as you may never have another chance."

"Well, then," explained Billie, "I'll tell you how it looks to
me. You might a great deal better be governed by the United
States than by a man like Huerta."

"Huerta! Huerta!" fairly screamed Santiago. "He is not the
governor of Mexico."

"No," from Billie. "He calls himself the provisional president.
In reality he is a dictator."

"He is a murderer!" shouted the thoroughly excited man.

"Then what are you worrying about? All that the Americans want is
to get rid of Huerta. They don't want Mexico. Didn't you know
that, Santiago?"

"What? Who calls me Santiago? I am Ixtazhl, Prince of the Aztecs
and guardian of the treasures of Montezuma. Who calls me
Santiago?"

In his excitement he rested the stock of his rifle upon the floor
and bent upon Billie a gaze so fierce as greatly to disconcert
him for the moment.

But Billie was not a lad to be easily unnerved and after a moment
he replied calmly:

"I call you by the only name I know. It was the one you used on
the Rio Grande when you sent me on a mission to Pancho Villa."

"Villa! Villa!" repeated Santiago, as though trying to recall
something that had passed from his memory. "Villa! Where have I
heard that name before?"

"On the Rio Grande is all I can tell you. Do you remember Don
Rafael?"

At mention of the name the expression on Santiago's face changed
again, this time to one of fiercest rage.

"Don Rafael!" he cried. "Don Rafael! Now I know you! You are Don
Rafael. That is why I should kill you!"

"Great Scott, no, I am not Don Rafael!" shouted Billie as
Santiago again raised his rifle and the lad perceived that he had
to do with a crazy man. "I'm the boy that saved your life when
Don Rafael tried to kill you. Don't you remember?"

Again Santiago lowered his weapon, and again there came upon his
face that puzzled expression.

"Tell me, Santiago--I mean Prince Iztazil, or whatever you call
it, what are you doing here?"

Santiago eyed him suspiciously, but finally laid his rifle across
a table in the center of the room and approached nearer the lad.

"Listen!" he said in a whisper. "I am the guardian of the
treasure o