“Are you going to clear out this ore, and send it to the dump” Tom asked the foreman.

“Yes.”

“Then I would be glad if you would do so at once,” Tom remarked.

For answer the Mexican foreman stared at Tom in a rather puzzled way.

“I will do so as soon as I am ordered,” he responded, respectfully.

“All right,” returned Reade.  “I’ll give you the order.  Clear this stuff out and get it up in the ore cage.  Clear this tunnel floor with all the speed you comfortably can.”

“Perhaps the senor will explain?” suggested the foreman.

“These caballeros are the new engineers in charge of the mine,” said Dr. Tisco.

“Ah!  So?  Then if Pedro Gato will only give the order—­” began the foreman.

“If Pedro Gato gives you any orders,” Tom suggested, briskly, “you will ignore them.  Pedro Gato is no longer connected with the mine.”

“Not connected?” gasped the foreman, who plainly doubted his ears.

“No,” broke in Don Luis.  “You will take no more orders from Gato.  These caballeros are the engineers, and they are in charge.  You heard the order of Senor Reade.  You will clean out this tunnel, sending the ore above to the dump.”

“It shall be done,” cried the foreman, bowing low before the mine owner.

“And now, Senor Tomaso, if it suits you, we will go to another tunnel,” proposed Don Luis.

“Very good, sir,” Tom assented.  “What had been in my mind was to order the drillers at work here and see a blast made.”

“We can be back long before the next blast can be prepared,” replied Montez.  “Carlos, lead the way to tunnel number four.”

The secretary turned, retracing his steps, Don Luis bringing up the rear.

“Oho!  I have dropped my cigar case,” remarked Don Luis a minute later.  “I will go back and get it.”

The others waited near the shaft.  Tom wondered, slightly, why Dr. Tisco had not volunteered to go back after his employer’s missing cigar case.

Presently Don Luis appeared.

“Now we will go to number four,” he said.

The cage carried them to a lower level.  Here another foreman came forward to meet them and to conduct them to the heading.  Here were some five tons of rock.  Tom and Harry found it to be about the same grade of ore as that seen above.

“Is this ore as good as you usually find in this vein?” Tom inquired of the second foreman.

“Not quite, senor, though to-day’s blasts have turned out to be very fair ore,” responded the foreman.

“I should say it is good ore,” Tom remarked dryly.  “Now, will you set the shovelers at work moving this stuff back a little way?  I want to see a new drilling made and watch the results of the blast.”

“If Pedro Gato—­” began the foreman, reluctantly.

“Pedro Gato has nothing to do with this,” Tom answered quickly.  “Mr. Hazelton and I are privileged to give such orders as we deem best.  Will you kindly tell the foreman so, Don Luis?”