dence to come here with such an
insult."

"I assure you, Senor Gato, I was but the unfortunate messenger."
Nicolas replied, meekly.

"Since you brought this insolence to me you shall take back my
message. Tell the dogs of Gringos that I laugh at them. Tell
the Gringo, Reade, that, in these hills, I shall do as I please.
That I shall let him pass safely, if I am so minded, or that
I shall shoot at him whenever I choose. Assure him that I regard
his life as being my property. Begone, you rascal!"

Nor did Nicolas linger. From the outset he had been badly scared,
though he had been truthful in assuring Tom Reade that a bandit
would hardly hurt a poor _peon_.

When Nicolas at last reached the young engineers he delivered
the message that Pedro Gato had regarded the whole matter as
insolence, and had been very angry.

"Gato added," continued Nicolas, "that he would shoot at you when
and where he pleased. And he will do it. He is a ferocious fellow."

"Humph!" muttered Tom. "If your feet don't mind, my good Nicolas,
I have a good mind to send Gato another and much shorter note.
Is it far to go!"

"N-not very far," said Nicolas, though he began to quake.

"Of course, I shall pay you well for this and all the other trouble
you are taking on my account," Tom continued, gently.

"I am finely paid by being allowed to serve you at all, Senor
Reade," Nicolas protested.

CHAPTER XIII

PINING FOR THE GOOD OLD U.S.

"You will have to be very careful that Gato does not get another
chance to shoot at you, _mi caballero_," Nicolas went on. "He
does not believe that you are unarmed, or he would speedily settle
with you. But he will shoot at you frequently, from ambush, if
you give him the chance."

"Then I hope he'll do it frequently," grimaced Reade. "The need
of frequent shooting indicates bad marksmanship."

"Senor," begged Nicolas, "I would not joke about Gato. He means
to kill you, or worse."

"Worse?" queried Tom, raising his eyebrows. "How could that be?"

The Mexican servant made a gesture of horror.

"It is worse when our Mexican bandits torture a man," he replied,
his voice shaking. "They are fiends--those of our Mexicans who
have bad hearts."

"Then you believe that Gato plans something diabolical, just because
I walloped him in a fair fight--or in a fight where the odds
were against me?"

"It matters not as to the merits of the fight," Nicolas went on.
"Gato will never be satisf