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"If I should see Pedro Gato first, he would be likely to come in for another walloping," Tom laughed, dryly. "But you would not see him, senor. You would hear him only, and Gato's message would be a bullet." "Can Gato shoot any better than he fights?" smiled Reade. Bang! An unseen rifle spoke. Judged by the sound the marksman was not more than three hundred yards away.
"Ah, so you are afraid?" sneered the mine manager. "Try me and see, if you prefer that," Tom retorted. With a snarl Gato circled closer. Don Luis Montez snatched from one of his pockets a silver-mounted revolver, but Hazelton caught the flash and in the next instant he had wrenched the pistol away from the mine owner. "This is Reade's fight, Don Luis," Harry explained.
In a very short space of time Gato's hands had been securely bound behind him. More cord was tied around his ankles, in such a way that Gato would be able to take short steps but not run. Suddenly Gato groaned and opened his eyes. "You'll be more comfortable on your back, old fellow," murmured Tom. "Wait. I'll turn you." Gato stared blankly, at first.
"I am finely paid by being allowed to serve you at all, Senor Reade," Nicolas protested. "You will have to be very careful that Gato does not get another chance to shoot at you, mi caballero," Nicolas went on. "He does not believe that you are unarmed, or he would speedily settle with you. But he will shoot at you frequently, from ambush, if you give him the chance."
"Better throw away your knife, my good Gato," purred Don Luis, "or Senor Reade will shoot you." "I won't," Tom retorted. "I couldn't, anyway. I am not armed. I never was enough afraid of any one to carry weapons. But let Gato go on with his knife. If he fails, then I shall hit him until my arm aches." "Stop, Senor Reade! I command it!" cried Don Luis, imperiously.
"Let me go, that I may have all my time to myself that I may find the best way to avenge myself on this miserable Gringo. Don Luis, do not think of attempting to keep me penned in El Sombrero. I must be idle that I may have the more time to think." Tom remained silent. He had stated his case, and the decision must be found by Don Luis. "For many reasons," whispered Dr. Tisco, "let Gato go.
"There is, caballero," Nicolas assented, gravely, "but it will be impossible for us to reach it." "Impossible? Why?" Reade demanded. "On my way back I kept my eyes open," the Mexican explained. "As a result I discovered who is in these hills about us." "Who, then?" Harry asked. "Pedro Gato," Nicolas affirmed solemnly. "Who?" said Tom. "Oh, Gato? Only he?"
"Not more so than to call me a Gringo," Tom Reade went on coolly. "So we are even, though I feel rather debased to have used such a word. Gato, if you make the mistake, again, of using an offensive term when addressing me, I shall well, I may show a somewhat violent streak." "You?" sneered Gato. Then something in the humor of the situation appealed to him.
"Yet what are we doing here?" insisted one of the men. "Here, so close to where the troops might pick us up?" "You are obeying orders," snarled Gato. "But that information is not quite enough to suit us," objected one of the Mexicans. "You might go your own way, then," sneered Gato. "I can find other men who are not so curious.
Moving stealthily over the hillsides, Nicolas spent a full hour in obtaining the first glimpse of Gato. That worthy was seated on the ground, smoking and chatting in low tones with his desperate-looking companions. Suddenly Pedro caught sight of the servant and started up. He beckoned, and Nicolas approached. "You have come to serve us," said Gato, delightedly.
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