“Now we’ll have to find Don Luis and apologize,” hinted Tom.  “Hereafter I can see that we shall have to rise much earlier.  Confound it, it’s a quarter of nine, already.”

The two youngsters hastened out to the veranda.  A man servant was lazily dusting and placing porch chairs.

“Has Don Luis gone to the mine?” asked Tom in Spanish.

“Don Luis?” repeated the servant, in evident astonishment.  “Presently his excellency will be dressing.”

“Thank you,” nodded Tom, and paced the veranda, leisurely.  “Harry, we didn’t make such a bad break after all, then.  Plainly Don Luis didn’t plan an early start.”

“Is Dr. Tisco around?” asked Harry, of the servant.

“The learned doctor must be dressing by this time, caballero,” replied the servant respectfully.

“Hm!” mused Harry.  “Can it be that the people in Bonista do their work at night?”

“Oh, I’ll wager the poor peons at the mine have been at work for some time,” Tom smiled.  “Anyway, I’m glad we haven’t kept everyone else waiting.”

At half-past ten o’clock Dr. Tisco appeared, immaculate in white.  He bowed low and courteously to the guests.

“I trust, caballeros, that you have enjoyed perfect rest.”

“Yes,” answered Harry.  “And now we’re fidgeting to get at work.  But, of course, we can’t start for the mine until Don Luis gives us the word, and we are at his pleasure.”

“It is nearly time for Don Luis to appear,” said Tisco gravely.

“Is he always as late as this?”

“Here, Senor Hazelton, we do not call eleven o’clock a late hour for appearing.”

Twenty minutes later Don Luis appeared, clad in white and indolently puffing at a Mexican cigarette.

“You will smoke, gentlemen?” inquired their host, courteously, after he had inquired concerning their rest.

“Thank you,” Tom responded, pleasantly.  “We have never used tobacco.”

Don Luis rang and a servant appeared.

“Have one of my cars ordered,” commanded Don Luis.

Ten minutes later a car rolled around to the entrance.

“You will come with us, Carlos?” inquired Don Luis.

“Assuredly, Don Luis,” replied the secretary, in the tone of a man who was saying that he would not for worlds miss an expected treat.

It was a seven-passenger car of late design.  Into the tonneau stepped the two Mexicans and the two young engineers.

“To the mines,” ordered Don Luis.

“Do you wish speed, excellency?” inquired the chauffeur.

“No; we will go slowly.  We may wish to talk.”

Gravely, in military fashion, the chauffeur saluted, then allowed the automobile to roll slowly away.

“It is not an attractive road, after we leave the hacienda,” explained Don Luis Montez to Tom.  “It is a dusty road, and a somewhat hard one.  The mining country is not a beautiful place in which to live.”