“Well, for simple faith you’re the limit, Nicolas, my boy.  For one thing, though, it strikes me that our getting over the border, which is some hundreds of miles away, might be hindered if we have the tough luck to run into any of Gato’s armed pals along this route.”

“You do well to remind me, senor!” cried Nicolas, in a low tone, but one, nevertheless, which was full of self-reproach.  “So much have I enjoyed my talk with you that I have been forgetting to look after your safety.  Pardon me, senor.  I will vanish, but I shall watch over you with the wide-open eyes of the panther.”

In another instant Nicolas had vanished from the trail.  Tom, however, did not worry.  He knew that Nicolas was not far away, and that the little peon was doubtless as valuable a scout as their expedition could have.

“I wish I had asked him to unload that gun, though,” Reade muttered to himself.  “He’s likely as not to hurt some one else beside the enemy with a stray bullet or two.”

Three miles further on Tom, Harry and their prisoner halted, for on the rough road they were now becoming winded.

“I am near, senores,” whispered a familiar voice, though Nicolas did not show himself over the rocks that concealed him.

“Yes,” sneered Gato, harshly, “you are indeed near—­near death, you silly little fool.  Always before you have been safe because you were not a fighting man.  But now you have taken to deeds of arms, and you shall take your chances whenever you stir in these mountains.  For that matter you will surely be cut down before the dawn comes.”

“That reminds me,” muttered Tom.  “We want to be farther from Don Luis before dawn arrives.  Gato, oblige us by rising and joining in the hike.”

Though Gato snarled, he allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet.  Then, with alert Harry behind him the villain allowed himself to be ordered along the trail.

When dawn came Nicolas informed the young engineers that they were now within about four miles of the nearest telegraph station.  The food that they had brought along was opened; even Gato had his share.  Then Nicolas vanished once more, and the march was resumed.

The sun was well up, and beating down hot and fiery when Nicolas, standing on a jutting ledge of rock, pointed down into the valley at a little clump of wooden buildings, roofed with corrugated iron.

“That third house is the telegraph station,” said the peon.  “You will know it by the wires running in.”

“Shan’t we all go down?” asked Harry.

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be wise,” Tom answered.  “We can’t turn our prisoner loose.  On the other hand, if we took him with us, roped as he is, it might stir up a lot of questioning and make some trouble.  But Nicolas will know better.  What do you say, my boy?”

“I say that Senor Reade is right.”

Tom therefore started down into the valley alone.  A few half-clad natives lounged in the street.  They stared curiously at this stalwart-looking, bronzed young Gringo who walked toward them with alert step.