Muller jumped to his feet, surprise giving way to anger, but before he could draw and level the revolver swinging at his hip, one of the Mexican guards accompanying the boys pushed them aside and thrust himself forward.

“None of that,” he said in Spanish.  “The General has commanded that these young Americanos be well treated.  They are friends.”

“Friends,” muttered Muller, sullenly, nevertheless withdrawing his hand from the revolver butt.  “That wasn’t a very friendly way to treat me awhile ago.”

He turned to Jack.

“And why, if you are friends,” he demanded, “do you two appear in the clothing of Herr von Arnheim and Captain Morales?”

“A number of events have occurred,” said Jack, quietly.  “That is why.  However, Don Fernandez has heard the tale, and that is sufficient.  He has given orders personally to these soldiers that we shall be permitted to use the radio.  That is why we are here.”

“Is that so?” demanded Muller of the Mexican guards.

The spokesman of the pair nodded agreement.

“The General has so commanded,” he said.

Grudgingly, Muller stepped aside.  Here was a mystery, and he hated mysteries.  Besides, these two youths were Americans.  He was a German and although the war between their respective countries was at an end, he could not bring himself to entertain kindly feelings toward them.  Like many Germans, he believed the United States responsible for the defeat of his fatherland in the World War.  He was working in the ranks of Germans in Mexico to embroil the United States with that country.  Such war, he believed, would strike a blow at the prestige of the hated Yankees.

“If the General has commanded,” he said, stepping aside, “go ahead.”

“Look here,” said Jack, flushing at this grumpy attitude, but deciding to do the manly thing, nevertheless, and extending his hand, “let bygones be bygones.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Muller shook hands.  To do him justice, it is only fair to point out that he was sincere in his attitude toward Americans, but misled.

“I haven’t time to explain about that blow,” said Jack, “but at the moment it was necessary.  Matters have changed since then.  It was nothing personal.”

“Very well,” said Muller, his grumpiness beginning to disappear beneath the charm of Jack’s manner.  “Say no more.  Now what is it you want?  Perhaps I can help you.”

“We want to use the radio,” said Jack, noting Bob’s growing impatience at their delay.

“What station do you want to call?”

“The Hampton ranch,” interrupted Bob, who decided it was time to bring this conversation to an end.  He was in a hurry to talk with his father.

“Are you calling Rollins?”

This reminder of the erstwhile traitor at the Hampton ranch brought both boys to a realization that Muller was familiar with the manner of calling their station, as undoubtedly he had handled or conducted radio conversations with Rollins in the past.