“Take this gun, Senor Reade,” Nicolas hinted, trying to pass the weapon to the young chief engineer.

“I don’t want it,” returned Tom, shaking his head and making a gesture of repulsion.  “I don’t like guns.  They always make me nervous.  I’m afraid of accidents, you see.”

“You take the gun, then, Senor Hazelton,” begged Nicolas, turning to the other engineer.

“Don’t you believe it,” retorted Harry, gruffly.  “I’d lose caste forever with Tom if I carried firearms.  Tom says that nobody but a coward will carry firearms.  You keep the gun yourself.”

“Muy bien, senor,” (very good, sir) agreed Nicolas, meekly.  “It is better that I should carry the weapon then, for I am truly worthless.  I am but a peon.”

“Oh, confound you!” choked Harry.  “I didn’t mean that.  You’re one of the best fellows on earth, Nicolas, for you’re a man that can be trusted.  Better unstrap that belt of cartridges from Gato, too.”

The big Mexican ground his teeth and cursed in helpless rage while the little servant stripped him of the belt and adjusted it about his own waist.

“Now, let’s get along,” Reade urged.  “We’ve been losing a lot of valuable time.  Besides, we don’t know when we’ll run into some of this mountain pirate’s choice friends.”

Tom strode on ahead.  Nicolas ran to his side, walking with him.  Then came Gato, urged on by Harry Hazelton.

“See here, you Nicolas,” remarked Tom, protestingly, “why on earth didn’t you stay put?  We left you behind to-night so that you wouldn’t run into trouble with Don Luis.”

“Don Luis himself told me to wait on your excellencies night and day, as long as you remained in Bonista,” Nicolas affirmed, solemnly.  “Don Luis hasn’t yet changed those orders, and so I must remain with you.  But I had flattered myself that just now I was of enough service to you so that you wouldn’t be displeased.”

“Displeased?  Not a bit of it,” muttered Tom.  “But we didn’t want you to get yourself into trouble on our account.  Now, you’ve gone and written your name in Gato’s bad books for certain.”

“I have, senor,” the peon admitted.  “Gato will take delight in cutting my throat for me one of these days.”

“Great Scott!” Reade gasped, shivering.  “That’s cheerful.”

“So that, perhaps, senor,” suggested the peon, slyly, “you will be willing to take me with you to your own country.  Perhaps there, also, you will be able to give me work as your servant.”

“Rest assured of one thing, Nicolas.  If we can get you safely over on to the American side of the border we’ll look after you properly.”

“I am very grateful, senor,” protested Nicolas, humbly.

“But we’re a long way from the American border as yet,” Tom went on.

“You will get there safely, senor,” predicted the peon.  “You are a great man, and you know how to do things.”