"I have heard that Mexico is overrun with bandits. These gentlemen
are some of the fraternity."

"Take us up to the house, Gato," urged one of the men at the fire.
"We shall know how to enter and find your friends. Everyone sleeps
there. It will be the safer way."

"It does not suit me," retorted Gato, sullenly.

"But why not?"

"Am I not paying you?"

"Yes."

"Then take my orders and do not ask questions."

At this there were sounds of dissatisfaction from all four of
these bad men.

"For one thing," Gato explained, "Don Luis would not like it. He
would accuse me of treachery--or worse. I do not want Don Luis's
ill will, you see."

"But Don Luis will be angry, in any case, if you injure his engineers,
won't he?" asked one of the men.

"A little, but after a while, Don Luis will not care what I do to
the Americanos," growled Pedro Gato.

"Humph! That's interesting--if true," whispered Tom Reade.

"Yet what are we doing here?" insisted one of the men. "Here,
so close to where the troops might pick us up?"

"You are obeying orders," snarled Gato.

"But that information is not quite enough to suit us," objected
one of the Mexicans.

"You might go your own way, then," sneered Gato. "I can find
other men who are not so curious. However, I will say that, when
daylight comes, we will hide not far from here. None of you know
the Americanos by sight. I will point them out to you as they
pass by in the daylight."

"And then--what?" pressed one of the rough men. "Are we to kill
the Americanos from ambush?"

"Eh?" gasped Tom Reade, with a start.

"If you have to," nodded Pedro Gato. "Though, in that case, I shall
call you clumsy. I shall pay you just four times as much if you
bring them to me as prisoners. Remember that. Before I despatch
these infernal Gringos I shall want the fun of tormenting them."

"Oh, you will eh?" thought Tom, with a slight shudder.

"I heard, Gato," ventured one of the Mexicans, incautiously, "that
one of the Americanos beat you fearfully--that he threw you down
and stamped on you."

"It is a lie!" uttered Gato, leaping to his feet, his face distorted
with rage. "It is a lie, I tell you. The man does not live who
can beat me in a fight."

"I was struck with amazement at the tale," admitted the Mexican
who had brought about this outburst.

"And well you might be," continued Gato, savagely. "But the Americanos
procured my discharge. And that was humiliat