“Rad, get the things packed up,” directed Tom quickly.  “We’ve had enough to eat and I want to make a good distance before we camp for the night.”  He wanted to get the colored man busy so the Mexican would have no chance to further question him.

“Surely the senors are not going to start off again at once—­ immediately!” protested Delazes.  “We have not yet taken the siesta—­ the noon-day sleep, and—­”

“We’re going to cut out the siestas on this trip,” interposed Tom.  “We don’t want to stay here too long.  We want to find some good ruins that we can study, and the sooner we find them the better.”

“Ah, then it is but to study—­to photograph ruined cities and get relics, that the senors came to Mexico?”

Once more that look of cunning came in the Mexican’s eyes.

“That’s about it,” answered Tom shortly.  He did not want to encourage too much familiarity on the part of the contractor.  “So, no siestas if you please, Senor Delazes.  We can all siesta to-night.”

“Ah, you Americanos!” exclaimed the Mexican with a shrug of his shoulders.  He stroked his shiny black moustache.  “You are ever so on the alert!  Always moving.  Well, be it so, we will travel on—­to the ruined city—­if we can find one,” and he gave Tom a look that the latter could not quite understand.

It was hot—­very hot—­but Tom noticed that about a mile farther on, the trail led into a thick jungle of trees, where it would be shady, and make the going more comfortable.

“We’ll be all right when we get there,” he said to the others.

It was not with very good grace that the Mexicans got their ox teams ready.  They had not objected very much when, on the day before Tom had insisted on starting off right after the mid-day meal, but now when it seemed that it was going to be a settled policy to omit the siesta, or noon sleep, there was some grumbling.

“They may make trouble for us, Tom,” said in a low voice.  “Maybe you’d better give in to them.”

“Not much!” exclaimed the young inventor.  “If I do they’ll want to sleep all the while, and we’ll never get any where.  We’re going to keep on.  They won’t kick after the first few times, and if they try any funny business—­well, we’re well armed and they aren’t,” and he looked at his own rifle, and Ned’s.  Mr. Damon also carried one, and Eradicate had a large revolver which he said he preferred to a gun.  Each of our white friends also carried an automatic pistol and plenty of ammunition.

“I took care not to let the Mexicans have any guns,” Tom went on.  “It isn’t safe.”

“I’ll wager that they’ve got knives and revolvers tucked away somewhere in their clothes,” spoke Ned.

“Bless my tackhammer!” cried Mr. Damon.  “Why do you say such blood-curdling things Ned?  You make me shiver!”

In a little while they took up the trail again, the ox carts moving along toward the comparatively cool woods.  Our friends had a cart to themselves, one fitted with padded seats, which somewhat made up for the absence of springs, and Eradicate was their driver.  Tom had made this arrangement so they might talk among themselves without fear of being overheard by the Mexicans.  At first Senor Delazes had suggested that one of his own drivers pilot Tom’s cart, saying: