-z-zz!" the leaden missile sang through the air. It flattened
against a rock in front of which the young chief engineer was
standing.

"You are answered, _mi caballero_!" cried Nicolas, throwing himself
flat on the earth. "Drop to the earth, senor, before the second
shot is fired!"

CHAPTER XII

NICOLAS DOES AN ERRAND

Tom did not follow the advice to flatten himself on the ground.
Instead, he stood straighter--even rose on his toes and stared
in the direction whence he judged the shot to have come.

"Gato, you treacherous scoundrel!" Read roared, in Spanish. "Do
you call yourself a brave man, to fight an unarmed foe like this?"

All was silent amid the rocks in the distance.

"Have you too little courage to answer me?" Tom again essayed.
"Or are you man enough to show yourself--to come forward and
listen to me. Don't be afraid. I can't hurt you. I have no
weapon worse than my fists."

As the young chief engineer spoke in Spanish, Nicolas understood.

"Don't! Don't, _mi caballero_," implored the Mexican servant
"Don't let him know that you are unarmed. Make a move as though
to draw a pistol, and Gato may run away instead of sighting his
rifle once more at you."

"Now I know you, Gato, for the wolfish coward that you are," Tom
Reade shouted mockingly. "You are desperately afraid when you
won't meet me, unarmed as I am."

"If Senor Reade is so utterly brave when he has no weapons," thought
the barefooted servant, "then if he had a gun in his hand he would
be the bravest man in all the world!"

"I guess that yellow dog isn't going to bark at us again, just
now," laughed Tom, carelessly, when some moments had passed without
another shot. "Doubtless, the fellow was frightened away by the
sound of his own rifle."

"That shot was a warning," chattered Nicolas. "It is his way
of sending you his defiance. When Gato fires again he will try
in earnest to kill you, and he will keep on firing until he succeeds.
Oh, _mi caballero_, if you will give me some more of your Americano
money, I will hasten about until I find some one who will sell
me a gun for you. You must have one in your hands all the time."

"Not for mine," smiled Reade. "To tell you the truth, Nicolas,
guns sometimes make me nervous. If I had one I might be clumsy
enough to shoot myself with it."

"Nicolas is talking sense," interrupted Hazelton, speaking in
English. "Both you and I should be armed."

"By all means have Ni