hours.

A branch of the Chihuahua Northern tapped the mine, but no train had
puffed its way up the steep grade for more than three days, and it was
useless to try to use the wires, as they had been put out of commission
almost at the beginning of the trouble in the province.

"If I had ever dreamed the trouble would assume such serious
proportions, the last thing I would have done would have been to allow
the professor or his young charges to journey to the Haunted Mesa,"
continued the mine owner.

Geisler, a rotund German, with a wealth of flaxen hair and moustache,
puffed at his china-bowled pipe before replying.

"Dese Megxicans is der teufel ven dey get started, ain'd idt?" he
remarked. "For a veek, now, dere has not been a tap of vork done py
der mine, und nodt a sign uv der rabblescallions uv loafers vot vos
employed deere."

"That is a lesson to me in employing Mexican labor," declared Mr.
Merrill emphatically. "If it isn't a saint's day carousal, it's a
revolution, and if it isn't a revolution, it's a bad attack of aversion
to work. I tell you, Geisler, the folks who are sympathizing with
these insurrectos don't know the people or the country."

"Dot is righd," rejoined Geisler, expelling a cloud of blue smoke. "De
country iss all righd, but der peoples--ach!"

He spread his hands, as if in despair. As he did so, the door of the
wooden building opened, giving a glimpse of the empty, idle shaft-mouth
beyond, and a young man of about twenty-two or so entered.

He was a mining student, employed as a level boss by Mr. Merrill. His
employer looked up as he entered.

"Well, Markley, any news?"

"Why, sir, that arrant rascal, Pedro, just rode by. I asked him if he
couldn't get the men back to work on Number Two, and he wouldn't hear
of it. He says that the insurrectos are going to wipe out all the
American mines, and drive the gringoes out of the country."

"Oh, they are, are they?" questioned Mr. Merrill, a grim look
overspreading his face. "Just let them try it on the Esmeralda, that's
all."

"You mean that you would oppose them, sir?"

"Oppose them! Holy smoke, man, you don't think I'd sit here with my
hands folded and let a lot of rascally mestizos wreck my property, do
you?"

"I should remarg idt not," puffed Herr Geisler.

"But, sir, there are only five of us here. How long do you suppose we
could stick it out?"

"Till der lastd oldt cat be dead, py chiminy!" exploded the German.