rip," 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,