colas get a gun for you, Harry, if you will,"
Reade answered, coolly. "But none for me."

"I'd like to meet Gato face to face and on equal terms," Harry
went on, dropping back into the Spanish tongue.

"So would I," agreed his chum. "I have much to say to Gato.
If there were mail boxes in this wild country I'd drop him a letter."

"Do you really wish to send Gato a letter?" asked Nicolas, eagerly.

"Why, I'd send him one if I could," nodded Tom.

"Have you writing materials?" pressed the servant.

"Yes--but what's the use?"

"Write your letter, _mi caballero_, and I will hand it to Gato,"
urged the Mexican.

"You?" gasped Tom.

"Certainly."

"But how?"

"I will hand the letter to him in person."

"You--go to Gato?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"Gato would kill you!"

"Kill a poor _peon_?" smiled Nicolas. "Oh, no; I am not worth
while. I am not a fighting man."

"Do you mean to tell me," demanded Tom, astonished, "that you
could go openly and safely to Gato?"

"Assuredly," declared Nicolas, composedly. "Gato would not harm
me. I am one of his own people, a Mexican, and have not the courage
to fight. So he would only disgrace himself in the eyes of his
countrymen if he tried to do me harm."

"Is that the truth?" Reade persisted.

"Certainly, Senor Reade. If there were a priest here I would
swear to it as the truth."

"And you have the courage to try to hand a note to Gato?"

"Under the circumstances it does not require courage, since I
am safe," replied Nicolas, steadily and easily.

"Hanged if I don't think I will write a note to Pedro Gato!" chuckled
Tom.

"Do so, _mi caballero_; at your convenience."

Tom tore a page out of a notebook, and with his fountain pen wrote
the following note in Spanish:

"Pedro Gato: If you had half the courage of a rabbit you would
not go skulking through the hills, shooting at me without giving
me any chance to tell you or show you what I think of you. A
shot has just struck near my head, yet no glimpse was to be had
of the man who fired the shot. If you did that, then you are
a coward of a low, mean type. If you do not feel like accepting
my opinion of you, then will you meet me and explain your conduct
as one real man talks with another? If you will not give me this
explanation, and persist in trying to shoot at me, then I warn
you that I will and must pummel you with my fists if I ever have
the pleasure of meeting you face to face."

"Thomas Reade