bling, for Nicolas had touched a tender spot.

"You have insult me! You call me mean name!" raged Nicolas. "Stand steel,
you big black smoke!"

Again Nicolas ducked and rushed in. Once more he employed his forefinger
tip in the same fashion, and with more power.

"O-o-o-o-o-h! Wow!" gasped Sambo, this time doubling nearly to the ground.
"Get away, chile! I doan' wan' no mo' ob yo'!"

"You have insult," insisted Nicolas angrily, "and I do much more yet to
you."

This time the negro appeared almost helpless. Nicolas danced about,
looking for an opening. In desperation Sambo struck out with his powerful
left. It gave the Mexican the chance he wanted. Darting in, he repeated
his trick for the third time.

The bulky negro lay down, groaning. He had too little breath left to be
dangerous.

While this was going on Tom Reade had rolled over on his face. From this
position he succeeded in getting to his knees. Then he rose and hastened
toward the Mexican.

"Nicolas, you're surely a little terror!" Reade admitted, admiringly.
"Now, untie my hands and we'll take care of Sambo."

"Wait---jus' one leetle moment, Senor," begged the Mexican. He turned
back to Sambo, that forefinger ready for another jab.

"Fo' de lub ob goodness---" gasped Sambo. But Nicolas was determined. He
made the jab, and Sambo all but lost the little breath that was in him.

"Now, Senor, we do it all in one second," proclaimed the Mexican. From
his pocket he drew a knife, springing the blade open. Snip! snip! and the
young engineer was free of his lashings.

"There's plenty of this cord left," declared Tom. "We'll fix up our black
friend."

"Do not use that word, Senor," implored Nicolas. "He is _no_ good! He
is scoundrel! He call me Greaser, an' I will keeck off his head for eet!"

"Wait until we get him tied," Tom proposed.

Sambo, by this time, had gained strength enough to sit up. He was
wondering whether he could rise to his feet and sprint away from this
dangerous little fury of a Mexican.

"Wait, you black cloud!" cried Nicolas. "I will put you down again!"

"Yo' get away from me---please do!" begged Sambo, recoiling in terror.

"Sambo," laughed Tom, "Africa shouldn't have stirred up Mexico as you did.
Now, lie down on your face, place your hands behind you, and I will
persuade him to let you alone."

Sambo hesitated.

"Let me at him, Senor!" begged Nicolas, maneuvering forward, his right hand
ready. "He i