darkness fell
they were still on the plateau of Mexico, some miles west of
Orizaba, running slowly for fear some stray bunch of Carranzistas
or Zapatistas might have torn up a length or two of track.

It was possibly an hour later that the engine gave a furious
jerk, followed by a bump and another jerk, and then the train
came to a dead stop.

In a minute everybody was on his feet asking everybody else what
had happened. As no one knew, there was a general movement for
the doors, as it was too dark to see much from the windows.

"Sit down, everybody," ordered the guard. "There is no danger,
but we have stopped on a high trestle."

The passengers obeyed, realizing the danger of leaving the
coaches. There was a general round of conversation, and then as
the train did not start, people settled back in their seats and
tried to sleep.

Some minutes later Billie gave Adrian a nudge with his elbow.

"Are you asleep?" he asked.

"No. Why?"

"I've just been looking out of the window. We're not on a
trestle."

"No? Well, what of it?"

"Only that the guard was lying. What did he do it for?"

"I don't know. Because he was a Mexican, I guess. Go on to
sleep."

"That isn't the answer, although it's pretty good. They have some
scheme. I wouldn't be surprised if they were going to keep us
prisoners somewhere around here."

"Nonsense. Go on to sleep."

But Billie was not satisfied. He leaned over and tried to talk to
Donald, but he was fast asleep.

"I think I'll go on a little scouting expedition," he muttered.
"I need some exercise."

He arose, stretched himself and walked slowly toward the door,
which stood wide open.

"I wonder where the guard is?" he thought. "It's mighty funny
he'd go and leave the coach like this."

He stepped on to the coach ahead. The same condition existed.

Billie's curiosity got the best of him and he jumped out onto the
ground. It was pitch dark, but he had not advanced more than
twenty steps before he discovered groups of men seated upon the
grass. A second glance convinced him they were armed.

He drew back and stood beside the coach, where he thought fast.

"There's one of two things," he soliloquized. "We are either
prisoners or else we are being guarded against an expected
attack. Whichever it is, this is no time for the Broncho Rider
Boys to be asleep. I'll go and tell the others."

He started to climb onto the car, but a guard appeared on the
platform and ordered him