He ran in
alongside the dock, making nearly as fine a landing as Skipper Tom
Halstead himself could have done. Lieutenant Hal waited only long enough
for Corporal Shimple to send over two men from the tug in a row-boat to
stand guard over the motor boat prize. Then, with his own boat squad,
and leaving behind only the dead and the wounded Mexican, the Army boy
marched his prisoners by a route that led around the village instead of
through it.

Captain Foster had lain down, fully dressed, prepared to be called at
any moment. He now came forth from his tent. He heard Lieutenant Hal's
brief report with few interruptions.

"Your name, sir?" demanded Foster, turning to the purple-faced one.

"James D. Ruggles," came the surly answer.

"I hope you are giving your correct name."

[Illustration: "That's the Money!"]

"Why shouldn't I? If I gave you a wrong name there are plenty of people
hereabouts who could soon set you straight."

"Your business, Mr. Ruggles?"

"Owner of mines in Mexico."

"Any in the _insurrecto_ district?" pursued Captain Foster.

"Yes. That's why----"

Ruggles checked himself suddenly.

"You are not required to confess or incriminate yourself, unless you
want to," Captain Foster advised the prisoner. "However, I imagine that
the cargo of the boat and your actions to-night will furnish all the
evidence against you that are needed. Mr. Ruggles, I shall have to hold
you and your Mexican companions until I am advised what to do with you.
There is no charge against your daughter. She may go to the hotel in
Agua Dulce, if you wish. I will see to it that she is properly
escorted."

"If you will be so good, Captain," answered Ruggles huskily. "But where
shall I sleep to-night?"

"On a cot in the guard-tent, sir. I am sorry, but that is the best that
we can do."

Meta Ruggles began to weep softly over her father's trouble and
disgrace. Sergeant Raney, therefore, escorted her from camp as soon as
he could persuade her to start for the village. Raney was also directed
to send an undertaker for the body of the dead Mexican, and a local
physician to look after the wounded one.

"You are going to sit here for a while, Captain?" inquired Ruggles.

"I think I shall."

"Then may I sit with you a few minutes before I am marched off to the
guard-tent?"

"Certainly."

Hal had stepped into the tent shared in common by the officers. Ruggles,
who had bitten the end from a cigar and had lighted the wee