Small, square mud houses occupied the hole in the forest.  Where the plaster had not fallen off, their white fronts were dazzling, but they were dirty and ruinous and the narrow street was strewn with decaying rubbish.  Although the pueblo had once prospered under Spanish rule, it was now inhabited by languid half-breeds of strangely mixed blood, engaged in smuggling and revolutionary plots.  They stood about the doorways, barefooted and ragged, watching Kit with furtive black eyes.

“I want porters and a guide to the mission,” he told the patron, who lounged against a wall smoking a cigar.

“It is a long way, senor, and the road is bad.  Besides, one cannot travel when the sun is high.”

“The road is, no doubt, safer then than in the dark.”

“That is true,” agreed the other with a philosophic shrug.  “The country is disturbed.”

“I must start at once,” Kit said firmly.  “I am willing to pay for the risk.”

The patron spoke to the others in a harsh dialect, but none of the loafing figures moved.

“They say the risk is great,” he remarked.  “There has been fighting and the president’s soldiers are in the woods.”

“The president’s soldiers will not meddle with us,” Kit answered, incautiously.

For a moment the half-breed’s eyes were keen, but his dark face resumed its inscrutable look.

“Then the senor is a friend of the president’s?”

“If we meet his soldiers, they will let me pass.”

“The soldiers are not the worst.  There are the rurales; men without shame, who shoot and ask no questions.  However, we will see if I can find porters, if the senor will wait until the afternoon.”

Kit distrusted the fellow and thought he had an object for putting off the start.  He had been warned that the Meztisos sympathized with the rebels, and imagined that his party’s safety depended on its speed.  But he did not want to look impatient, and, imitating the other’s carelessness, sat down and lighted a cigarette while he pondered.  To begin with, he suspected that the patron would prevent his meeting any of the president’s soldiers who might be about, and it would be prudent to finish his business and get back to the ship before Galdar knew he was in the woods.  His men claimed to be American citizens and Mayne knew where he had gone, but the latter’s statements might be doubted if the party disappeared.  It was known that Askew was engaged in a risky trade and the captain’s story would look more romantic than plausible.

Kit saw he must depend upon his own resources and presently noted that a man was leaving the village.  The fellow kept behind the group in the street as far as he could and moved quickly.  There was something stealthy about his movements and when he looked back, as if to see if Kit were watching, the latter got up.

“Stop that man,” he said.