ed upon Harding's rascality, and the probable dilemma in which
his father now was. Buck Bradley noticed the boy's despondent air, and
sought to cheer him up.

"Brace up, Jack," he roared in his hearty way, "your pop is all right.
According to my way of thinking, those greasers just lured him away
from here, so that they could have easy access to the specie room.
They knew that if he was on the ground, he'd blow up the whole
shooting-match before he'd let them get at the gold."

"Then you don't think they have harmed him, Mr. Bradley?"

"Not they, my lad," was the reassuring rejoinder, "they wouldn't dare
to injure a prominent American like your dad. Why, our troops are all
massed at San Antone--for manoeuvers, the department says--but as
surely as my name is Buck Bradley, the troops are there to see that the
greasers don't get too fresh. You see, Jack, Uncle Sam don't want to
mix in other folks' troubles. He believes in playing in his own back
yard, but when any one treads on your Uncle's toes, or injures one of
his citizens--then, look out for high voltage shocks."

"You have relieved my mind a whole lot, Mr. Bradley," said Jack
gratefully. "I guess it's as you say. Madero and his crowd wouldn't
want to run the risk of an American invasion."

"You can bet a stack of yaller chips on that, boy. But now, let's
follow this Dutchman around and see what the lay of the ground is. If
we've got to put up a scrap--and I guess we have--it's a long move in
the right direction to have your surroundings sized up accurate. By
the way, is this fellow Geisler all right?"

"My father thinks he is the most faithful and capable mining super in
the country," answered Jack warmly. "I guess he is, too. I only met
him once before on a former visit to the mine, but he sort of inspires
me with confidence."

"Same here, Jack. I tell you the Dutch kin raise some Cain when they
get going, and that fellow looks to me like one of the right brand."

Thus talking, they came up with the others. Geisler was explaining
volubly his plan of defense. Buck Bradley interrupted him.

"What's the matter with boring some holes all around the stockade?" he
asked. "We can fire from behind them if it's necessary, without
exposing ourselves."

"Buck, that's a great idea," declared Pete, whose eyes were shining at
the thought of what he termed "some action." "Got a brace and bit,
Geisler?"

"Sure. Ve-e haf a whole barrel of braces and bi