queried.

"Not particular about it," replied the policeman, with a shrug. "We'd
be scorched for endangering the town if we took those things into Blixton.
Your foreman, Mr. Reade, called us out here to see if we could get trail
of your missing Mexican servant."

"That's a vastly more important thing to do," Tom replied with enthusiasm.
"I want to find Nicolas before I do another thing."

"Come here, Bill," called one of the officers.

Out of the shadows near the shore came a youth leading a dog on a leash.

"This dog is a bloodhound," announced one of the policemen with visible
pride. "Take him to where the scent of the Mexican starts, and the dog
will follow as long as there's any scent left. But, first, we'll have to
have something that the Mexican has worn, so that the hound will know the
true scent."

"That will take but a few minutes," declared Reade energetically. "Come
up to the house, and I'll find something that Nicolas has worn."

Corbett remained behind to take care of the bombs. Tom led the officers
and the youth with the hound on a brisk walk up to the house.

"Wait out here," murmured Tom, "and I'll bring something out. If we all
go into the house we'll wake my partner, Hazelton, and he has enough work
to do in the daytime, without being kept up at night."

While the others remained outside Tom stole into the house. There was a
room in the rear, off the kitchen, where Nicolas slept. Into that room
Reade stepped noiselessly.

It was not necessary to strike a match, for, in the very faint light there,
Tom espied an object on the foot of the bed that he recognized---one of
the Mexican's white canvas shoes.

Tom snatched it up quickly. Then, despite his steady nerves, he staggered
back.

CHAPTER XVII

TOM MAKES AN UNEXPECTED CAPTURE

For an unearthly scream pierced the air. There was a wrench, a bounding
figure---and then Tom Reade felt a jolt near his solar plexus that made
him gasp.

"Stop that!" gasped the young chief engineer.

"You, Senor?" demanded an incredible, drowsy voice.

"Yes; it's I---Reade."

"A thousand pardons, Senor!"

"So this is you, Nicolas?"

"Yes, Senor."

"What are you doing here?"

"The negro got away from me."

"I know that, but---"

"I could not help it, Senor. I assure you I was not careless."

"I never knew you to be careless, Nicolas."

"Thank you, Senor. But I stood over that black scoundrel, watching for
the slightest move