Mr. Damon hastily swallowed a cup of the liquid which Ned passed to him.

“I spects dat was my fault,” put in Eradicate, who did the cooking for the three whites, while the Mexicans had their own.  “I were just a little short ob some ob dem funny fried beans, an’ I took some from ober dere,” and the colored man nodded toward the Mexican campfire.  “Den I puts some red pepper in ’em, an’ I done guess somebody’d put some in afo’ I done it.”

“I should say they had!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, drinking more water.  “I don’t see how those fellows stand it,” and he looked to where the Mexican ox drivers were eagerly devouring the highly-spiced food.

It was the second day of their trip into the interior, and they had halted for dinner near a little stream of good water that flowed over a grassy plain.  So far their trip had been quite enjoyable.  The ox teams were fresh and made good time, the drivers were capable and jolly, and there was plenty of food.  Tom had brought along a supply especially for himself and his friends, for they did not relish the kind the Mexican drivers ate, though occasionally the gold-seekers indulged in some of the native dishes.

“This is lots of fun,” Ned remarked again, when Mr. Damon had been sufficiently cooled off.  “Don’t you think so, Tom?”

“Indeed I do.  I don’t know how near we are to the place we’re looking for, nor even if we’re going in the right direction, but I like this sort of life.”

“How long Massa Tom, befo’ dat gold—­” began Eradicate.

“Hush!” interrupted the young inventor quickly, raising a hand of caution, and glancing toward the group of Mexicans.  He hoped they had not heard the word the colored man so carelessly used, for it had been the agreed policy to keep the nature of their search a secret.  But at the mention of “gold” Miguel Delazes, the head ox driver, locked up quickly, and sauntered over to where Tom and the others were seated on the grass.  This Delazes was a Mexican labor contractor, and it was through him that Tom had hired the other men and the ox carts.

“Ah, senors!” exclaimed Delazes as he approached, “I fear you are going in the wrong direction to reach the gold mines.  If I had known at the start—­”

“We’re not looking for gold mines!” interrupted Tom quickly.  He did not like the greedy look in the eyes of Delazes, a look that flared out at the mention of gold—­a look that was crafty and full of cunning.

“Not looking for gold mines!” the contractor repeated incredulously.  “Surely I heard some one say something about gold,” and he looked at Eradicate.

“Oh, you mustn’t mind what Rad says,” cried Tom laughing, and he directed a look of caution at the colored man.  “Rad is always talking about gold; aren’t you, Rad?”

“I ‘spects I is, Massa Tom.  I shore would laik t’ find a gold mine, dat’s what I would.”

“I guess that’s the case with all of us,” put in Ned.