The Radio Boys on the Mexican Border

CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VII KIDNAPPED "Not a trace, Bob. I don't know what to make of this." "Nor I, Frank. A fellow wouldn't believe that right here near New York, in the most densely populated part of the East, two men could steal an airplane and escape without a trace." "Oh, I don't know, Bob. You remember last winter when that aviator from the upper end of Long Island was last seen flying across the Sound toward the Connecticut shore and was never seen or heard of again." "But, Frank, here forty-eight hours have passed. Here we are, Tuesday morning. Dad has wired every city, town and hamlet in the East. Not a sign of the machine, nor of the men." It was, in truth, Tuesday morning. The morning when, everything going as planned, they should have been setting out on their flight to the Hampton camp in New Mexico. Instead, the boys were moodily pecking at breakfast, the airplane had disappeared, and the trip seemed more and more remote. To add to their worries, they had been unable to reopen communication with their chum, Jack Hampton, by radiophone, since that first and only time the previous Saturday afternoon. All their efforts to call him met with no response. The day before, moreover, a telegram had been sent Mr. Hampton by Bob Temple's father, informing him in code of recent mysterious occurrences, including the theft of the airplane, telling him the boys had tried to call Jack by radiophone, but without response from his powerful New Mexico station, and asking whether all was well with him. No answer had yet been received. "Mister Robert," said Mary, the maid, entering the breakfast room, as the two boys sat in moody silence, "your father wants you and Mister Frank in the library." The boys hurried to the library at once, where they found Mr. Temple, very grave of face, bent above a lengthy telegram which he had just finished decoding. "It's from Jack," he said, "And the poor fellow is in a lot of trouble. Listen." He read: "Dear Friends, Father has been kidnapped. Two men in airplane carried him away into Old Mexico. Since getting your telegram few minutes ago realize it may have been your airplane. Wasn't there and didn't see it but description of machine given by cowboy on the range who saw it all tallies with description of your machine." Mr. Temple paused for breath, and Frank, who had been computing mentally, interrupted. "Our plane could do it all right," he said. "That is, if—When did this happen?" "Monday noon or a little later," said Mr. Temple. "Well, they stole it sometime Saturday night," said Frank. "Yes, they wouldn't have had to make more than eighty miles an hour steady flying to do it. But where did they get the petrol?" "Why," Bob reminded him, "we had her stocked with oil and gas. And the spare tanks filled, too. That wasn't impossible." Mr. Temple resumed: "Haven't answered your radiophone calls because didn't get them. Have been so busy running around in circles, haven't had time to watch the telephone. But if you call me when you get this shall be on the watch. Father was kidnapped Monday noon. No word from him. Need your help." "He certainly does," said Mr. Temple, emphatically, as he concluded reading. "And he'll get it, too. Come on, boys, let's call him up." Evidently Jack was on the watch for their signal, for he answered at once, and as soon as each had tuned to their private 1,800-metre wave length, the Temples and Frank were given the full details as to the kidnapping of Mr. Hampton. He had been riding horseback across the range, miles from any oil derricks or pumping stations, on his way to visit one of the "independent" oil operators. A lonesome cowboy hunting a stray was the only other human being in sight, and he was a half mile away. Suddenly out of the sky swooped an all-metal airplane, glistening in the sun. It made a beautiful landing on the sandy soil, bumped along over a few clumps of mesquite, and came to rest close beside Mr. Hampton. The latter jumped from his horse, and started running toward it. Evidently, Jack thought, his father believed the Temples and Frank had unexpectedly arrived. Then the watching cowboy saw two men leap from the airplane and start for Mr. Hampton, who turned as if to run. Thereupon, one of the two pointed a revolver at him and he turned, perforce, and surrendered. He was put into the airplane, the two men again climbed aboard, and the machine soared up into the sky before the astonished cowboy could more than set his horse in motion. All this Jack explained and then asked: "Mr. Temple, what would you advise me to do?" "Does anybody else know of this?" "Only the cowboy who saw it and I," said Jack. "This cowboy knew father by sight, and came direct to me with the information. I've made him promise not to tell anybody until he hears from me." "That's right, Jack," said Mr. Temple, very earnestly. "This information must not get out. I believe, Jack, your father will be safe from harm and that the men who seized him are intent on embroiling Mexico and the United States. Now we don't want any more wars, Jack, and we must try to get your father back without the aid of troops." "Yes, sir," said Jack. "Father and I have suspected what the game was, and that was why I told the cowboy to say nothing." "Good," said Mr. Temple, approvingly. "Now, Jack, that the mystery of the airplane's disappearance has been cleared up, we are ready to leave at once. We can get out of New York City on the 6 o'clock train tonight. Look for us Friday. I'll say good-bye until then, and let the boys speak to you, for I know they are dying to do so." While the boys and Jack conversed, Mr. Temple sought out his wife. After explaining the necessity for his abrupt departure with the boys for New Mexico, he said: "I should worry if I thought you would be subjected to annoyances while we were away. But I believe there will be no more trouble here. And with the servants in the house and the guests you have invited, you may feel perfectly safe." "Oh, Dad, I think you're awfully mean not to take me along," pouted Della, who was present. "Why, Lassie," said her father, "with a bunch of harum scarum boys to look after, my hands will be full enough." "Yes, you think they're just boys," flashed his young daughter. "But you wait and see. They'll be taking care of you. Just you wait and see. Frank is awfully clever." "Frank?" said Mr. Temple teasingly, with a meaning look. Della flushed, and made an excuse to leave the room a moment later. "I wish, George, that you wouldn't tease her about Frank," said Mrs. Temple. "She's such a child." "Yes," said Mr. Temple, thoughtfully. "I suppose so. But," he added, "I'm glad she likes Frank." CHAPTER VIII HELD FOR RANSOM "Great Scott, Jack, how different you look. What a peach of a get-up." The Temples, father and son, and Frank Merrick stood on the gravel-bed outside the little wooden box doing duty as station at Ransome, New Mexico. The transcontinental flier which had dropped them, was dwindling in the distance. Jack Hampton, whom the chums and Mr. Temple had crossed the country from New York to join, was in the center of the group. Greetings had been exchanged, they had all slapped each other on the back indiscriminately and enthusiastically, and now Bob Temple stood off at arm's length to admire his chum. "Yes, sir. Some get-up," he added. "Righto," agreed Frank, also gazing at the handsome Jack admiringly. "Where do you get 'em? Lead me to the store right away." Jack, who was 19 and the oldest of the three chums, was almost as tall as the six-foot Bob, but of more slender build than that gridiron warrior. He had the build of a thoroughbred, long legs, flat hips, trim waist, deep chest and broad shoulders and a flat back. Both at dashes and distance running Jack easily was supreme at Harrington Hall Military Academy, which all three boys attended. Like Bob he was fair and had curling chestnut hair. His eyes were blue and lively, his features not too regular. Altogether, he was a striking figure. Today he was dressed in khaki shirt and breeches. Instead of puttees he wore high, laced leather boots that reached to his knees. On his head, pushed back so that his wavy hair showed in front, was a wide-brimmed sombrero. By his side, suspended from a cartridge belt, swung an automatic revolver in its holster. This was the outfit so admired by his chums from the East, trim in their light-weight summer suits of the latest cut and wearing low tan shoes more adapted for city streets than for the sands stretching inimitably on every hand. "We've worried considerably while aboard the train, Jack," said Mr. Temple, "for fear something dire might happen to you these last two or three days. I'm glad to see you are all right. Any word from your father?" Jack shook his head in negation. "Not a word," said he, "since those two rascals picked him up in your airplane and headed for Old Mexico." "Well, don't worry, Jack," said Mr. Temple. "I don't believe his life is in danger." "I'm trying not to worry, sir," said Jack. "But now that you and the fellows are here, we shall have to get busy at once. It has been pretty hard to wait for you. I wanted to ride into Old Mexico myself at once." Bags in hand the group was moving to the rear of the station, and now came in sight of a ramshackle automobile with a Mexican at the wheel, easily distinguished by his swarthy coloring and his ragged mustaches, as well as by his peculiar dress—a steep crowned hat like a sugar loaf, with a very wide brim, a tight bolero jacket that did not reach to the waist and disclosed a dark blue silken shirt beneath and tight-fitting trousers that flared at the bottom. "That is Remedios and his flivver," explained Jack. "He does odd jobs all through this region. I hired him to take us out to camp. But before we climb aboard, take a look at this view." Obediently, they paused and gazed at the surrounding country. In the foreground was a wide dirt street at the rear of the station. For the equivalent of the length of a city block it was lined on both sides with wooden structures one-story in height, but with the false fronts of the frontier country pretending to second stories—a front wall sticking above the roof and with the semblance of windows painted on it. A dry goods store, a Chinese laundry, an alleged hotel, several restaurants, several ex-saloons still carrying on some kind of business—these comprised the lot. At one end the street ran abruptly into the desert. At the other was a cluster of old freight cars made into dwellings, with Mexican men, women and children loitering in front in the sun. This was Ransome. "Not much of a town," said Jack, "just a trading post for a wide stretch of this country around here. But look at the setting, will you?" And he swept a hand in a wide gesture indicating the horizon. On every hand stretched the desert, broken by clumps of mesquite and cactus with the only trees in the landscape the thick belt of cottonwoods lining the banks of a stream that rose in the mountains to the north and ran by the town. North, east, south and west lofty mountains gleamed on the far horizon, while closer at hand rose the foothills. These latter were of fantastic shapes, like castles, tables or crouching animals, and of the most vivid coloring. Over all was the warm and brilliant sunshine of late afternoon. As for the air, it was clean and despite the warmth of the day already beginning to turn cool as the sun hovered on the rim of the farthest mountains to the west. "Some country," said Bob emphatically. "Wait until you have known it day in and day out for months," said Jack. "You will never want to go back to Long Island." "Is that the way you feel about it, Jack?" asked Frank. "Oh, well, I suppose I'll want to go home sometime," said Jack. "But just the same, I'm in love with this country. As for the old-timers off there in the hills, you couldn't drive them away." "Say, Jack," said Frank, as they all continued standing and gazing at the surrounding scene, "I thought we'd see some oil derricks around here. But there isn't one in sight." "No, Frank," interposed Mr. Temple, in explanation, "you see the Independents are mainly located over in the Panhandle, or upper western portion of Texas and in Oklahoma. That is east from here. But Mr. Hampton had his geologists in through this region, and they reported the prospects for finding oil favorable. Then the Independents came in quietly and took up leases, and Mr. Hampton followed to prepare for development of the field." "Yes, that's the way of it," agreed Jack. "Say, Jack," said Frank, "I'm hungry as a hunter. If we are going to get dinner at your camp, let's move along. How far is it, by the way?" "Ten miles," said Jack, leading the way toward the automobile with its dozing Mexican at the wheel. "Come on." The others followed and were about to climb into the automobile when the rapid hoofbeats of a galloping horse ringing on the sun-baked clay of the street drew their attention, and they paused. "Why, it's Gabby Pete," said Jack in surprise, moving forward a step as the rider reined up his horse so sharply that it reared and slid on braced hind legs. The animal came to rest so close to him that Jack was forced to give back a step, and it stood there snorting and blowing. An oldish man of tremendous girth, but who sat his horse easily despite his size, grinned down at Jack. He was white-haired and under the brim of his sombrero little eyes twinkled genially and shrewdly in a round, fat face. "What brings you here, Pete?" asked Jack, sharply. "I thought you were at camp, getting dinner for my guests." He indicated the boys and Mr. Temple, who stood close at hand, looking on. "Who will prepare dinner for them now?" Gabby Pete, the talkative camp cook, scratched his head under his sombrero, and looked solemn. "Waal, they'll have ter wait a bit," he said. "But I kin rustle grub in a hurry onct I git back ter camp. An', anyhow, Mr. Jack, a feller came to camp a while ago in one o' them there aeryoplanes. Jest flew up almost to the door an' steps out an' gin me this yere letter." Here Gabby Pete produced a missive from the front of his shirt, and passed it to Jack. "He sez as how it war most partickler that you git it right away. So I rid in with it," said Gabby Pete, adding aggrievedly: "an' now you hop on me fur it." Jack seized the missive in a sudden fever of anxiety. An airplane? He opened the letter, took in its contents at a glance, and turned excitedly to his chums. "Father's held for ransom," he cried. "Here. Read this." CHAPTER IX ON THE DESERT TRAIL Eagerly Mr. Temple, Bob and Frank gathered around Jack, crowding to read over his shoulders the missive left at camp by a messenger in an airplane and brought to Ransome by Gabby Pete, the camp cook, following Jack, who had gone to the little New Mexican town to meet the party from the East. The writing was cramped and foreign, as if the pen were wielded by a hand more accustomed to form German script than English letters. The missive was brief: "Sir, this is to inform you that Mr. John Hampton is held in a secure place. One hundred thousand dollars must be paid for his release. A man riding alone must bring the money in United States bills of one thousand dollars each to the Calomares ranch two weeks from today. He must wear a white handkerchief in his hat." While the others read, Jack turned to Gabby Pete and said authoritatively: "Pete, you heard me say something just now about my father being held for ransom. I believe you are my friend." Gabby Pete nodded violently. "Well, forget what you heard. If anybody asks you, remember that father has gone East on business." "Sure, boy," said Pete. "I'm a tombstone. Well, me an' Angel Face here," and he slapped his horse affectionately, whereat Angel Face reared and pranced, giving the lie to her name, "we may as well git started fur camp so's to feed you when you arriv." Jack laid a restraining hand on Pete's knee. "Wait just a minute, Pete. Do you know where the Calomares ranch is located?" Pete nodded. "Aw, sure," he said, "that must be Don Fernandez y Calomares, down in Ol' Mexico. That's a good hundred mile acrost the border. It's in a valley in them mountains," he added, pointing to the darkening southern horizon. "And who is this Don?" "Waal," drawled Gabby Pete, plaintively, "I stick to hum so much o' the time I never git to talk to nobody nor hear the noos. But seems to me I did hear onct about him. Yes, sir, somebody sez as how Don Fernandez lives in a palace in that wilderness jest like a king of old, with armed ree-strainers or whatever you calls 'em——" "Retainers, Pete," said Jack, suppressing a smile. "Yes, that's the word. An' this feller what tol' me sez as how he's very proud and haughty-like an' has a beyootiful daughter, an'——an'——" Pete dropped his voice, and paused, eyeing Remedios, the Mexican in the nearby flivver. "Think he kin hear me," he whispered. "Guess not," said Jack. "Why?" He, too, looked toward Remedios. The latter had his back to them and was blowing indolent wreaths of smoke from a brown paper cigarette. "I don't trust that feller, that's all," whispered Gabby Pete hoarsely. "He's down acrost the border too much o' the time. Anyhow, as I was sayin', this yere Don Fernandez is agin the Obregon gov'ment an' backin' a new revolution. That's what the feller tol' me, anyhow. Waal, Mr. Jack, Angel Face an' me will go an' git dinner." And with a slap on his horse's flank that caused her to spin about and dash away, Gabby Pete was off. Jack turned to his companions. "First thing is to get to camp, I guess," he said. "Then after dinner we can talk over what has to be done. What do you say?" "I say let's eat," said Frank, plaintively. "He's got the biggest appetite for his size I ever saw," said Bob, affectionately, slapping his smaller chum on the back. "I second Jack's motion," said Mr. Temple, seizing his bags and leading the way to the car. The others also picked up their bags and followed. "We know now that your father is safe, Jack," said Mr. Temple. "So the news in that note wasn't so bad, after all." "That's right," agreed Jack. "Well, climb in fellows, and let's get started." It was a tight squeeze. Jack sat in front with Remedios and one of the bags. Mr. Temple and Bob, both big individuals, filled the rear with the balance of the bags. Frank, who had gone to the front of the car to crank it, found no room within for him when he returned. He leaped to the running board. "I'm light," he said. "I'll sit on the door. Let's go." Remedios opened the throttle and with a rattle and roar, the ramshackle old car darted ahead on the road taken by Gabby Pete, and soon had left the town behind and was out on the desert. Only the upper edge of the sun stood now above the western mountains, and the purple shadows were long across the plain. In the east the sky was darkest blue and the stars already twinkled brightly. A rosy light lingered at the zenith, while above the western mountains the sky was ruddy bright with the afterglow as the sun slipped farther and farther down and finally vanished altogether. Then night began to descend with a swiftness unknown in the East. The rattle of the car made conversation difficult and the newcomers lapsed into silence, becoming absorbed in watching the majesty of the scene. Presently the engine began to miss fire, then emitted a final groan as Remedios closed the throttle, cutting off the flow of gas, and stopped. Remedios threw the clutch into neutral, applied the brake, and climbed out. Raising the cover of the hood, he peered within. Then he shook his head dolorously. "It is of no use, Senor," he said to Frank, who had jumped from the running board and stood beside him. "She is finish. The spark plug, she is on the—what you call it?—the bum." And with an air of finality, he closed the cover. At the same moment he turned to peer anxiously down the road ahead, whence came now on the still twilight the thudding hoofbeats of a galloping horse, rapidly growing louder. His mechanical instincts awake, however, Frank paid no attention to the approaching horseman. He had again lifted the cover, as Remedios turned away, and, lighted match in one hand, was twisting at a spark plug with the other. "Shucks," he cried, withdrawing his head, "that Number One plug wasn't screwed in tightly enough, that's all. I'll bet she'll go now, just the way I tightened her by hand. And if I only had a pair of pliers——" At that moment, the galloping horseman dashed up alongside, pulling his horse back on his haunches. It was Gabby Pete, his hat gone, his face red with excitement. Far over he leaned to call to the astonished occupants of the car. "Bandits," he cried hoarsely. "Greasers. Comin' in an auto. I come back to warn you." And facing about he pointed to where a cloud of dust behind him on the desert road indicated a rapidly oncoming car. "Grab that crank," cried Frank to Remedios, and he sprang for the driving wheel. "I'll make this old bus go." "Not so fast, Senor," said Remedios suavely, and seizing Frank's arm he whirled the young fellow about. Frank looked into the muzzle of a revolver which Remedios held leveled at him. CHAPTER X A BRUSH WITH THE ENEMY "Crack." The explosion of a revolver shot. "Wow." A yell of pain. Remedios seized his shooting wrist in his left hand and danced up and down in the road, while his weapon fell to the ground. Frank, who a moment before had been gazing into the leveled weapon of the traitorous Mexican chauffeur, whirled about to face his friends in the car. Smoking revolver in hand, Jack Hampton stood upright in the front seat. It was he who had fired the shot. "I didn't touch him," cried Jack, "merely shot his revolver from his hand. Jump in Frank, for here come the bandits." With a rattle and roar the car of the bandits approached, not the length of two city blocks away on the desert trail. Frank took in the situation at a glance. "Crank for your life," he ordered Remedios. "Jack, keep him covered." As the Mexican sprang to the crank, and started turning, Frank leaped to the driver's seat of the flivver and manipulated throttle and spark. With a clatter the engine turned over and began to race. Closer came the bandits, their car slowing down as it approached. Jack leaned far over the windshield, his weapon leveled at Remedios. "Up on the hood," he shrieked. "Up with you, or I'll shoot you full of holes." Remedios threw himself sprawlingly over the hood. The bandits' car had slowed almost to a stop, four or five lengths away. Frank released the hand brake, pressed the clutch into low with his foot, and shot ahead. Shifting the clutch into high, Frank opened the throttle wide and the old rattletrap seemed fairly to leap ahead, its wheels spurning the ground. The lights of the other car which had theretofore seemed dimmed were switched to full brightness. Before the blinding glare in his eyes, Frank involuntarily ducked his head. As his eyes left the road, the car swerved. A shot rang out from the car of the bandits, ripping high and doing no damage. "Look out, Frank. Swing her over," cried Jack in alarm. Shouts of panic rose from the car of the bandits, too. Too late. There was a crash, the flivver lurched, then sped on. As rapidly as possible Frank brought it to a stop and then stood up to look back and view the damage. Mr. Temple and Bob, in the rear seat, already were on their feet. Jack stood beside Frank, peering into the shadows behind. The moon was in its first quarter, low down and shed only a faint radiance. But even by the wan light, it could be seen that something dire had happened to the car of the bandits. It stood sideways across the road, leaning drunkenly to one side. And to the ears of the boys came groans from a number of dark figures in the road. Gabby Pete, temporarily forgotten by the boys in the excitement, galloped up, cheerful voiced. "As neat a trick as ever I see," he cried approvingly to Frank. "You tuk off their hind wheel jest like a knife cuttin' butter. They're tumblin' around in the road, a half dozen of 'em. Hey, look out." And Gabby Pete bent low on his horse as a bullet whistled overhead. Another and another followed, and there were shouts of vengeance, and imprecations. "They're a-comin' to," cried Gabby Pete, slapping Angel Face on the flank, so that the horse leaped forward with a snort. "I'm on my way." And he disappeared into the darkness. "We're on our way, too," cried Frank, opening the throttle and pressing down the clutch, as more bullets whistled overhead. "Give 'em a shot, Jack, and everybody stoop down." Jack fired off his revolver, shooting high purposely. He wanted merely to frighten their pursuers into desisting. Then the car gathered momentum, and was soon out of range. Presently Frank, who had been driving the flivver as fast as it would go, with the result that they were all tossed about while the car lurched precariously over the rutted road, slowed down to a more moderate pace. "Anybody hurt?" he called. "They never touched me." "Not a scratch," answered Mr. Temple. "Same here," cried Bob and Jack together. "Say, though," cried Frank, suddenly realizing Remedios no longer sprawled on the hood, "we've lost our passenger." "Good riddance," said Bob. "Must've thrown him off when we struck the other car," decided Jack. "Or else he jumped off when his chance came," surmised Mr. Temple. To a query from Frank as to the route to be followed and the distance to camp, Jack made answer that the road lay straight ahead with no laterals cutting into it, and that camp was only a couple of miles beyond. "Say, Jack," declared Bob with a laugh, "that was some reception committee you got out to meet us." "Yes," kidded Frank, "what were you aiming to do, anyway? Put on a Wild West thriller for a bunch of tenderfeet fresh from New York?" Jack laughed. "Tenderfeet, your grandmother," he said. "It looked to me as if the effete Easterners put on the thriller for the bandits." Relieved at the safe outcome of their adventure, everybody joined in the laugh, and for several minutes the high good humor manifested itself in jokes bandied back and forth. Then a 'dobe ranch house loomed ahead, low-lying, of four or five rooms, a wide, dirt-floored porch along its length, upon which the rooms gave through separate doors. At the rear were a clump of shadowy outbuildings and a corral. To one side and some distance away stood a low frame building and a high, latticed tower with antennae, which the chums recognized with a shout of delight. "There's the radiophone station, hey, Jack?" Frank drew the car to the porch, and Gabby Pete, at the sound of its approach, opened the door of the kitchen and emerged, big spoon in hand, the lamplight streaming from the room behind him, and savory odors floating out to the hungry boys. "Come an' git it," he called sonorously. "What does he mean Jack?" asked Bob. "I hope he means dinner," said Frank, sniffing hungrily. "He does," laughed Jack. "That's the way camp cooks announce food is ready in the cow camps, as I understand it. And Gabby Pete is an old cowman." "Well, lead me to it," said Frank, and all followed Jack into the house. CHAPTER XI JACK CANNOT SLEEP "Well, now, boys, let's see where we stand," said Mr. Temple, after all had partaken heartily, amid excited but disjointed conversation, of a surprisingly good dinner of pork and beans, boiled potatoes, fresh tomatoes and lettuce, bread pudding and coffee. He pushed back his chair as he spoke, and lighted a cigar. "First of all," he said, "we have got to consider the kidnapping of Mr. Hampton and decide what shall be done in the matter, what moves we must make. Then there is this series of mysterious happenings, all of which have a bearing on the case, if we can find the solution. "Here, for instance, is this man Remedios. Evidently he was in league with the Mexican bandits who attacked us, and it was his part of the conspiracy to stage a breakdown so that we could be easily attacked. Now who were the bandits, and what did they want? Were they ordinary robbers after money, or was their object something deeper? Was it part of this plot against our oil interests?" He paused to puff his cigar into renewed life. All three chums had been listening with eager attention. Now Jack Hampton spoke. Mr. Temple earlier had elaborated for Jack's benefit his theory that a faction of Mexican rebels was responsible for the outrages of which they had been the victims, hoping thereby to embroil Mexico and the United States and thus cause trouble for President Obregon. "Mr. Temple," said Jack, leaning forward, "I do not believe those bandits were after money. Didn't it strike you all as strange that they were in an auto? Well, it did me. The bandits of the border usually are mounted on horseback. These men, on the contrary, had a high-powered car. No, that attack was due to a carefully laid plan. And do you know what I think their purpose was? It was to capture you." Bob and Frank, elbows planted on the table, leaned forward surprised. Mr. Temple, however, showed no surprise, but merely looked thoughtful. "You see," continued Jack, "you are an American of wealth and position. They already have captured father. Now, if they were to capture you, there certainly would be some commotion at Washington, the national capital, that would make trouble for President Obregon of Mexico. Maybe another punitive expedition would be sent into Mexico, like General Pershing led in the time of Carranza, after Villa's raid on Columbus, New Mexico. At least, that's what they expect, I guess." Mr. Temple nodded, but remained silent. "But, Jack," demanded Frank, "if you are right in your surmise, then it means that these fellows knew in advance of our coming." "Yes," said Jack, "that's the puzzling thing about it." "Anybody here know we were coming?" asked Bob, speaking for the first time. "Sure," said Jack, "Gabby Pete knew. And Rollins, father's assistant. But you met the one, and you know he can be trusted. As for Rollins, I don't know much about him. He's a queer, silent man. Not here tonight, because he left early this morning to see a man on business over here some twenty miles or so. He said he might not return tonight. But I know father trusted him." "Then, Jack, there is one other thing to be considered," said Bob. "And that is, has anybody among our enemies—for I suppose we can call them that—listened-in when we spoke by radio?" "Of course," said Jack, "with all these amateur receiving sets in use nowadays it is pretty hard to get absolute secrecy. But, in the first place, since that Washington conference, the government has limited the use of certain wave lengths. Now we are licensed to use an 1,800 metre wave length, and I imagine there are very few—at least in this region—who could 'tap' our conversation. In addition, of course, we used our code in discussing when you would arrive." "No, you're wrong," said Bob. "You used the code when you telegraphed that your father was kidnapped. But, as I recall it, when we spoke by radio after getting your wire, we all were so excited we never thought of the code." Frank nodded agreement. "That's right," he said. "But, anyhow, we never thought of making it a secret. Perhaps your cook—this Gabby Pete—said something innocently in town. Or the word got around somehow." "Yes, I suppose that's the way it happened," said Jack, dismissing the subject. "But the question now is, what are we going to do? Shall we, telephone the county sheriff about this attack on us tonight and about Remedios? And—what shall we do about father?" Mr. Temple who had been puffing thoughtfully throughout this discussion, his head bowed, now looked up, and shook his head in negation. "Let's not notify the sheriff," he said. "The minute we bring the authorities into this, we run the danger of letting our whole story become known. Then the end which these mysterious enemies of ours seek will be attained. That is, the government will be drawn into the situation. "As to your father, Jack," and Mr. Temple paused, "well, we shall have to think the matter over pretty carefully before we undertake to do anything. In the first place, as I have said before, I believe he was captured in order to make trouble between Mexico and the United States. Now, here comes a note from his captors demanding that we pay a ransom of one hundred thousand dollars. How does that fit into my theory? "Well, if we appeal to Washington and ask our government to demand Mr. Hampton's release, there certainly will be trouble. And that, I believe, is what the enemy counts on us to do. If they really were after a ransom, and had no other object in view, it is likely they would not have asked for so big a sum, and also would not have given us two whole weeks in which to carry out their demands. No, I am convinced they expect us to go to Washington and make trouble. Therefore, that is the one thing we must try to avoid doing." "But, look here, Mr. Temple," said Jack, impulsively and with just the slightest quiver in his voice, "he's my father." "Yes, I know, Jack," Mr. Temple said in a sympathetic tone, "and I know what you're thinking of. You're thinking your father is a prisoner and ill-treated. And you're saying to yourself that while we hold back here from appealing to the government, something dreadful may happen to him. Isn't that so?" Jack gulped unashamedly, and turned his head away. "Something like that," he said, in a muffled voice. The older man dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry too much, my boy," he said. "We may appeal to Washington, and let the consequences go hang, if that is the only way to bring back your father. But we don't want to act too hastily. Let's turn in now and get a good night's sleep. Then in the morning we'll decide on something definite." It had been a long discussion, and Bob and Frank were content to do as Mr. Temple proposed. Jack, perforce, agreed, although the strain of the last few days, which he had carried alone, was beginning to tell on him and he yearned for instant action. He showed the others to their rooms, Bob and Mr. Temple sharing Mr. Hampton's room, and Frank bunking in with Jack himself. After Frank had undressed and tumbled into bed, so dog-tired, as he said, that he could barely keep his eyes open to see the way to his pillow, Jack went out to stand in the starlight on the porch. After leaning against a pillar some minutes, during which his active brain kept milling endlessly over the details of the past few days, he had an impulse to go over to the radiophone station and talk to the guard, an ex-cowboy, on duty there since the attack by three Mexicans at the time this story opened. Hands in his pockets, head bowed in thought, he moved across the hard packed sand, his feet making practically no sound. CHAPTER XII JACK DISCOVERS A TRAITOR Two figures stood at the door of the radio station power house. The station was a duplicate of Mr. Hampton's other station on his Long Island estate, earlier described. So engrossed were the two men in whispered conversation that they were unaware of Jack's noiseless approach. The soft sibilant sound of whispering which came to his ears just as he was about to approach the door roused Jack from his reflections. His suspicions were on the alert because of the happenings of recent days, and he halted. Certain, after standing a moment with every nerve tensed, that he had not been seen, Jack backed cautiously until again around the corner of the building. Who were the two men? What were they whispering about? Pressing against the side of the building, Jack thought quickly. One of the two must be the night watchman. Perhaps the other was the man who kept guard at the station by day. If he were, thought Jack, then, perhaps, some new danger menaced and the night man had called the day man to help him. This theory also would account for the fact that they were whispering, instead of conversing in normal tones. So probable did this supposition seem to Jack that he decided to join the men and ask what the danger was. Caution, however, prompted him to reconnoitre by peeping around the corner before stepping into the open. The next moment he was thankful he had done so. For, as he looked, one of the two struck a match and held it in cupped hands to a cigarette, and Jack saw the man was Remedios. Drawing his head back quickly, Jack leaned against the building, trying to compose his thoughts. What was Remedios doing here? Not many hours before he had foiled the plan of the traitorous Mexican chauffeur to deliver him and his friends to the enemy. Was Tom, the ex-cowboy, on guard at the radio plant, a traitor? Jack could not believe it. Footsteps were approaching from around the corner. Jack looked around wildly. There was no shelter near enough to which to flee. He whipped out his automatic, flung himself down alongside the wall, and waited. Two men appeared, but instead of rounding the corner they moved straight ahead. They were in earnest, but low-voiced conversation. They did not see him. Jack stifled an exclamation. The man with Remedios was Rollins, his father's trusted assistant. So stunned was Jack at the revelation that he did not strain to overhear what they were saying. In a moment they were beyond earshot. Trembling with rage at this evidence of treachery on the part of Rollins, Jack rose to his feet. He intended to stalk the two conspirators. Then a new idea occurred to him. What were they doing at the radio plant? Perhaps, for reasons of their own, they had damaged it or put it out of commission. He decided to investigate. Rollins and Remedios were now out of sight toward the front of the ranch house. Perhaps Rollins would have the audacity to take the other into his room, which opened like the other rooms directly upon the porch or gallery. If so, Jack could surprise them later. First, he would investigate at the radio plant. Walking swiftly, he approached the door of the power house. An electric light shone within. The guard, Tom, jumped up from a chair where he had been sitting, reading, at the sound of Jack's hurried footsteps. His hand reached for the ready revolver at his side, but was withdrawn at sight of his visitor. "Oh, it's you, Jack," he said, addressing him familiarly, for a warm friendship had sprung up between the two. "I thought it might be a Greaser." "Tom," said Jack, without any preliminaries, and showing his excitement in his voice and manner, "what was Mr. Rollins doing here? Who was that with him?" Well enough Jack knew who the stranger was. But good friend though Tom was, Jack wanted to test him. The circumstances certainly were suspicious. "Didn't see the other feller," Tom answered. "He stayed outside. Mr. Rollins said he was an oil driller. Mr. Rollins went into the station there." Tom motioned to the radio operating room beyond a closed door. "Asked me to throw on the juice so he could use the telephone." "Whom did he talk to?" "Why, I don't know," said Tom. "How would I?" "How long was he in there?" "Why, fifteen, twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour. Why, Jack? Anything wrong?" "Yes, Tom, there is," said Jack. "Can I trust you?" Tom looked hurt. "That's fer you to say." "Excuse me, Tom," said Jack. "But after what I've just seen I don't know whom to trust. Yes, I believe you're true blue, Tom. I'll tell you. But wait a minute." He walked to the door and looked out. The coast was clear. "Tom," said he, returning, "I'm going to take you into my confidence. Listen." In as few words as possible he related their adventures that day and the part played by Remedios. Then he added that in Mr. Rollins's companion he had recognized the Mexican chauffeur. "What do you make of it?" he asked. "Treachery," said Tom, emphatically. "But who'da thought it of Mr. Rollins?" They looked at each other puzzled. "I wish I knew whom he spoke to by radio and what he said," declared Jack. "Wish I'da listened," mourned Tom. Both stood silent. Suddenly the still night was shattered by a series of racketing explosions. Jack sprang for the door. "Remedios's flivver," he cried to his companion. "There isn't another car in the world can cough like that." By the time he had emerged from the radio station the car could be heard shooting away down the desert trail toward Ransome. "Too late," said Jack, disgustedly. "He's gone. I should have surprised them together." He thought a moment, then turned to the other. "Listen, Tom," said he. "Not a word about all this. I think I'll not let Rollins know that I suspect him, but will talk this over first with my friends. And if he comes here to radio again listen to him, and report to me what he says." "All right," said the big ex-cowboy. Then as a new idea occurred to him, he asked: "But how about tellin' my side pard, Dave? He's on duty days. He oughta know, too." "I don't know Dave as well as I do you," said Jack. "Certainly he ought to be informed, so that he can be on the watch, too. Can he be trusted?" "You can count on Dave," said Tom. "We been pardners for years. That bow-legged son o' Satan an' me been through lots o' ruckuses in our time. If there's any shootin' to be done, count us in. You know how I kin shoot." "I ought to know," said Jack. "You taught me." "Well, then, I'll let Dave in on the secret." "All right," said Jack, moving away toward the house. "Good night." He started for the ranch house, but again came back. "Rollins mustn't know I was down here," he said. "He won't know from me," Tom assured him. When Jack reached the house, he found Mr. Temple, Bob and Jack on the front porch in their night-clothes. Rollins was there and had introduced himself. All four were discussing the disappearance of the flivver. "You know how I sleep," said Bob. "But it made so much noise it waked even me." "Where have you been, Jack?" asked Frank. "Why, you haven't undressed. I thought you turned in when I did. But I was so sleepy I never noticed when I tumbled out of bed that you weren't there." Jack felt Mr. Rollins's eyes on him. It made him uncomfortable. "Oh, I couldn't sleep," he said. "So I came out for a turn in the night air before going to bed." "Where were you walking?" asked Mr. Rollins quickly. Jack found lying distasteful, but decided it would not do in this case to tell the whole truth. Fortunately, on leaving the radio station, he had swung about in a circle, so as to approach the house from an almost opposite direction. "Over there," said Jack, indicating the direction from which he had come. "There's a little rise some distance beyond there, but in this feeble moon-light you can't see much, so I came back. Then I heard the flivver." "Do you think that fellow Remedios came here himself and drove it off?" asked Frank. "He certainly had his nerve, if it was he," said Bob. Jack noticed that while Rollins was watching him keenly Mr. Temple, who had not taken part in the conversation, was studying Rollins. "Oh, it must have been Remedios," Jack said boldly. "Did anybody get close enough to see him? Who came out first? Did you notice, Mr. Rollins? You must have just arrived. I see you are still dressed." "Yes, I had put my horse up in the corral," said Rollins, calmly, "and was walking over here to the house, when I heard the car. I came around to see who was calling at this late hour, but all I could see was the disappearing car. Of course, I knew nothing of your day's adventures until your friends came out, when we introduced ourselves and explanations followed." CHAPTER XIII THE NET IS DRAWN TIGHTER That obvious lie on Rollins's part gave Jack the final assurance that the man was in the plot against them. Burning with indignation, he wanted to expose Rollins but with an effort of self-control he choked back the hot words and also managed to keep his anger from showing in his face. But it was an effort. Fortunately the others came to his rescue. Frank began to shiver in his pajamas and called attention to the fact that the night air was chill. "Yes," said Jack, glad of the change in subject, "no matter how warm the days out here, the nights are always cool. Let's go inside." All trooped into the living room, which was dining room, too. In the big fireplace they found a wood fire laid by the thoughtful Gabby Pete, ready to be touched off in the morning. The talkative camp cook slept in the bunkhouse some distance away, in the opposite direction from the radio plant. While the others dragged blankets from their beds and returned to the living room, wrapped up in them like Indians, Jack touched a match to the wood and the fire soon was blazing merrily. Rollins would have excused himself on the plea of fatigue after a long day's ride, but Mr. Temple halted him. "So long as we are here altogether," he said, "it won't hurt matters, and may help them, to have a little talk." From his chair in front of the fire, Mr. Temple looked up inquiringly at Rollins, who stood to one side of the fireplace, his face in the shadows. The latter did not speak. Jack thought quickly. Was it wise for Mr. Temple, unaware of Rollins's duplicity, to discuss matters with him? He decided not. He was bending down to throw more wood on the fire and without rising he interposed an objection. "Mr. Rollins must be pretty tired," he said, glad his face was averted because he feared the scorn in his eyes would betray him. "And we've all had a hard day. Suppose we let the discussion go until tomorrow." Rollins spoke precipitately, and Jack believed there was a little note of relief in his voice. "Yes," said he, "that would be better. I am pretty tired, as Jack says. Well, I'll turn in. Good night. I'll see you at breakfast and after that we can have our talk." Shaking hands with Mr. Temple and throwing curt nods to Bob and Frank, Rollins left the room. A moment later Jack arose and followed swiftly but silently to the door on the gallery. Peering around the doorpost cautiously, he assured himself Rollins had entered his own room, then returned. The others looked at him in surprise, unable to understand the meaning of his actions. Jack soon enlightened them. Crouched before the fire and with his eyes on the door for signs of interruption, while the others pulled their chairs close about him, Jack in a low voice outlined his experiences of the night. When he spoke of Rollins's using the radio, Frank uttered an exclamation. "That's how the enemy learned just what time we would arrive," he declared. Jack shook his head. "No," said he. "All Rollins had to do to spread that information was to tell Remedios. The latter could notify the men who laid for us." "Well, then, whom was he telephoning to?" Jack again arose and moved to the door and peered out. No signs of life. He returned and resuming his position said in a low voice: "That's what I've been asking myself. I've thought it over and I believe I've found the answer. Either he was radioing to the Calomares ranch in Old Mexico where father probably is held a prisoner, or else he was sending a message to the fellows who stole our airplane." Bob, the belligerent growled in his throat. "The big stiff," he muttered. "I'll go get him now and we'll choke it out of him." He half rose from his chair, but his father pushed him back. "Don't blame you, Bob," said Jack, grinning. "It's what I wanted to do myself. But I believe there is more to be gained by watching Rollins—at least until we have more to go on." "Probably," said Frank, "if we put it up to him now, he'd be able to lie out of it." "But he couldn't lie out of being seen with Remedios," said Bob. "Or of using the radio." "Frank is right, though," declared Jack. "Rollins would frame some alibi, and all we'd succeed in doing would be to put him on his guard." Mr. Temple had been thinking deeply. Now he interrupted. "Jack is probably correct in his surmise as to who Rollins was calling by radio," he said. "Probably this Calomares ranch is headquarters for the Mexican rebels who are making trouble for us. If it was the ranch that Rollins called, he may have been making his report on today's proceedings. But if he was calling the airplane, that is a more serious matter. It may mean trouble for us tonight, perhaps another attack." "Great guns," grumbled Bob, "don't these birds ever sleep? Well, believe me, if the Heinie that stole my airplane comes around where I can get my hands on him, I'll fix him." "You wouldn't hurt him, Bob, would you?" said Jack. "Huh." That was all Bob replied. It was enough. "I wouldn't do a thing to him, either," said Frank. "Except I'd turn his Kaiser mustaches down so hard they'd never point up again." Bob and Frank, joint owners of the airplane, grinned at each other. "Well, fellows," said Jack, "We have got to sleep. So I propose that we stand guard turn about tonight. It's pretty late now, midnight or thereabouts, so that if we stand two hour watches, the three of us, we'll pull through nicely without spoiling Mr. Temple's slumber." The older man protested he was as able to stand a watch as any of them, but the boys wouldn't have it so. Finally it was agreed that Jack should take the first watch of two hours, Bob would succeed him and Frank would have the last watch. The man keeping watch would sit inside his bedroom door opening on to the gallery, with Jack's revolver. As the bedrooms adjoined, while that of Rollins was the last in the house, it would be easy enough to guard both. The night passed, however, without incident. It had been agreed beforehand that after the expiration of Frank's watch at 6 o'clock there would be no necessity for keeping further watch. Gabby Pete would be up and busy at his early morning tasks, and the oil drillers housed in the bunkhouse also would be stirring about. Therefore, after barring the door, a precaution Bob also had taken in the room shared with his father, he turned in without awaking Jack. Worn out by their trip of the day before with its attack and the excitement of the night, all slept soundly, and Gabby Pete did not get them up. It was almost 10 o'clock when Jack awoke. He called the others, and soon all were dressed and ready for what the day would bring forth. Jack was the first dressed. He found Gabby Pete in the kitchen, peeling potatoes, and asked if they could have breakfast. "Sure thing," said Gabby Pete. "Have it fur you right away. Nice fresh aigs an' ham an' coffee. How's that?" "Fine. Have you seen Mr. Rollins this morning?" "Yeah. Give him breakfast early. He lef word he hadda go over to Number Two well where they're still drillin' an' hain't struck oil yet, but said as how he'd be back later today. He tuk them two drillers from the bunkhouse with him." "Did you know Remedios sneaked up last night and took his flivver again, right from under our noses?" Jack inquired. "No, that so?" Gabby Pete dropped his paring knife and potatoes in surprise. "Well, he did," said Jack, starting to leave. Gabby Pete jumped up, almost upsetting his pan in his haste, and called to Jack to wait. Wiping his wet hands on a big blue apron that looked incongruous on the old cowman, he pulled open a drawer in a kitchen table and took out a flat blue envelope which he handed to Jack. "Almost forgot this," he said. "Your tellin' me about that there scoundrel of a Greaser put everything else out o' my mind. Must be gittin old an' forgetful. One o' these days I'll forgit my head." He would have rambled on garrulously, but Jack interrupted. He turned the envelope over curiously. It bore no address or writing of any kind, and was sealed. "What's this for, Pete?" Jack inquired. "Oh, that's somethin' Mr. Rollins musta dropped out o' his pocket at breakfast. Found it on the floor beside his chair after he was gone. Will you give it to him?" "All right." Jack returned to join his companions. "Have we any right to open this?" he said, after explaining how he had obtained the envelope. "I for one believe that we should. It may contain valuable information to us." "You're right, Jack," said Mr. Temple. "I'm a partner in this oil enterprise, and if one of our trusted employees is a scoundrel we are entitled to know it. Give me the envelope. I'll take the responsibility." While the others looked on, Mr. Temple ran a knife along the edge and slit the envelope open. Inside was a mass of documents and a letter. Mr. Temple unfolded them, gave one look, then with an exclamation jumped to his feet. "Great Scott, boys," he cried. "This is important. Luck is certainly with us." CHAPTER XIV THE KEY TO THE MYSTERY "What is it?" cried Jack, pressing forward. "Yes, tell us," demanded Bob and Frank as in one breath. The three boys crowded around Mr. Temple, who in one hand held the mass of documents and in the other the letter. He was reading the latter. "Boys," said he, "this proves Rollins's complicity in a plot against us. But it makes matters more puzzling and complicated, too." "How is that, sir?" Jack inquired. "Well, first of all," said Mr. Temple, holding up the thick sheaf of papers, "this is Mr. Hampton's own original list of the leases secured by the group of independent oil operators to which I belong and which he represents here in the field." "Is it a copy of the list I recovered from the thief who stole it from Mr. Hampton's house on Long Island?" asked Bob. "No," smiled Mr. Temple. "It is the original. That was the copy. And this letter with it is one written by Rollins to a man in New York City who is one of the minor officials of the Oil Trust. It is too long to read to you. But from it I gather that Rollins is a spy in the employ of this official." "Say, Dad," declared Bob, "this is too much for me. If the Octopus is responsible for our troubles, then where do the Mexicans come in? And vice versa?" "That's what I had in mind, Bob, when I said this discovery complicated matters," said Mr. Temple. "Sh," warned Jack, from the window toward which he was glancing at that moment. He sprang forward to see better. "Here comes Mr. Rollins now. And in a tearing hurry, too." Rollins jumped from his horse and ran along the porch to his room. They heard the door slam, and then sounds of a furious searching being carried on. The boys and Mr. Temple, gathered around the door and window, looked at each other significantly. "Found he dropped his papers and came back for them," whispered Frank. A moment later Rollins called for Gabby Pete from the door of his room. The cook hurried to him from the kitchen. "Pete, did I drop an envelope—a long blue envelope—at breakfast?" asked Rollins, making no attempt to conceal his anxiety. Before Gabby Pete could reply, Jack stepped impulsively from the doorway. "Yes, you did," said he. "Pete gave it to me to keep for you." "Where is it?" Rollins brusquely demanded. "Step into my room," said Jack. Rollins complied. When he saw Mr. Temple, Bob and Frank, he recoiled as if to flee. But Jack barred the doorway. Rollins was speechless. Mr. Temple advanced, holding out the document and the letter. "Your duplicity is discovered, Rollins," he said. "I make no apology for having opened your sealed envelope, because last night Jack Hampton discovered you at the radio station with Remedios, and we knew you were faithless to your trust. Come, make a clean breast of it." Rollins's face went white. "You, you read the letter?" he gasped. Mr. Temple merely nodded. Rollins seemed to shrink and grow older before their eyes. Suddenly he sank into a chair. His shoulders sagged. Pressing his hands to his eyes, he bent forward and began to cry. Not the noisy crying of a child but great, dry, wrenching sobs. "Come on, fellows," said Jack in a low voice. "Let's leave him to Mr. Temple." The older man nodded approval and the three boys filed out, closing the door behind them. Simultaneously each drew a long breath of relief. Bob was the first to speak. "Dad'll get it out of him," he said "I'm hungry," said Frank plaintively. At that moment, Gabby Pete poked his head from the doorway of the kitchen. Seeing the boys, he called: "Come an' git it." The three started on the run for the dining room, their youthful spirits rebounding from the depressing scene in the room they had just quit in answer to the tang of a perfect day and the cook's breakfast call. Bob suddenly halted with an exclamation. "How about Dad?" "Oh, he's too busy to miss his breakfast," said Frank. "Anyhow, we can get the cook to put up something for him." "Yes, I'll speak to Pete about it," said Jack. "Come on." They ate hungrily with little conversation. Pete hovered near and his presence restrained them from talking about the topic that was uppermost in their minds. "How about taking a look at the radio plant?" asked Jack when they had ended breakfast. The others agreed eagerly. They were in the act of leaving the table when Mr. Temple appeared. They crowded about him with questions. "Easy, easy there," he protested. "I'm hungry as a hunter. Suppose you boys wait outside for me while I get a bite, and then I'll join you." When Mr. Temple emerged, he lighted a cigar and leaned against a pillar. The boys stood about him. For several moments he was silent, staring out over the expanse of desert to the hills beyond, all shimmering beneath the heat of the summer sun. "It's a long story," he began, "but I'll simplify it for you. Rollins held the key to the mystery. He has a family back East, an invalid wife, a son in college, a daughter just preparing to enter college. All that takes money, for doctor bills and school bills and clothes for the girl. Rollins was a poor man on a salary. "He needed money and couldn't see his way to getting it. Then a minor official of the Octopus put temptation in his way by making him a proposition. Mind you, he wasn't one of the big men of the Oil Trust. I feel certain they know nothing about all this. "This man proposed that Rollins obtain certain inside information about the independent oil operators and sell it to him. Rollins wanted to, but couldn't get the information. It was too closely guarded by Mr. Hampton. "It was then that another temptation came Rollins's way." Mr. Temple paused. "A weak man seems to carry certain earmarks that draw scoundrels to him, boys," he said. "It was so with Rollins. At this moment a representative of Calomares, the Mexican landowner who is backing the northern rebels, sought him out with a proposition that he betray his employers. The rebels, as I suspected, wanted to make trouble for President Obregon, of Mexico, by embroiling him with the United States. And the way they wanted to set about it was by raiding the independent oil operators. They needed a spy at our headquarters, and they proposed that Rollins should become their man. "Then Rollins had an inspiration. He told the Mexicans that if they would help him, he would aid them. It was agreed. The agent who had acted for Calomares in the negotiations was this German, Von Arnheim, an aviator and a German secret agent in Mexico during the war. He took the man Morales with him to Mr. Hampton's Long Island home to steal the duplicate list of independent leases and other data which Rollins had learned was kept there." "That's where I came in," grinned Bob. "Yes," said his father, "and it was because you foiled them that Rollins came into possession of Mr. Hampton's own original copy of the list and other data. For he stole it from Mr. Hampton's effects after Von Arnheim and Morales had carried him away captive in our airplane." "How about this attack on us yesterday?" asked Jack. "As you suspected, it was for the purpose of capturing me, too," said Mr. Temple. "And Rollins had let the bandits know when I would arrive. Remedios was his go-between." "Well," said Jack, "there's only one thing more." "What is that?" asked Frank. "Why, I'd like to know whom Rollins radioed to last night." "I found that out, too," said Mr. Temple. "He was talking to the Calomares ranch in Old Mexico, which has a very powerful station, according to Rollins. He says the German, Von Arnheim, told him that there are similar powerful radio stations scattered throughout Mexico and South America, all built by German money for the use of its spy system. And he said this German told him the most powerful station of all was on an island in the Caribbean, and that it was so powerful it could communicate with Nauen, Germany." It was apparent that Mr. Temple had concluded his explanation, and Bob and Frank began to ply him with questions. Jack, however, stood silent, his face averted. Mr. Temple presently broke from the others and laying a hand on Jack's shoulder whirled him about. "Father?" asked he, in a kindly tone. "Yes, sir." "Well, Jack, I've got the beginnings of a plan in mind. But first I must get more information from Rollins. Then I'll talk to you again." Jack looked him squarely in the face. "Mr. Temple," said he firmly, "I'm desperate. Father is everything in the world to me. I'll wait to talk with you. But I tell you frankly the only plan that appeals to me is to ride into Old Mexico and rescue him." The eyes of Bob and Frank, who had turned to listen, lighted up, and they nodded vigorous approval. Mr. Temple stood off and looked at the trio of husky fellows as if seeing them for the first time. "Perhaps," said he, "that is what you will soon be doing."

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