er and robbery? The boy with a reward of $10,000 on his
head."

CHAPTER XIV.

THE CASE IS WELL STATED.

It was a long, tedious climb back up the side of the slope. With almost
every step the night watchman and the Mexican clamored for a hearing,
for details of the charge against them, but they met with scant
courtesy. Both Nestor and Lieutenant Gordon understood that they were
fearful that they were to be taken at once back to New York, in which
case they would be deprived of a chance to plunder the hidden mine,
which they had come so far to find. Nestor had explained, very
briefly, to the lieutenant that the Mexican and the watchman were there
in quest of treasure, but had not confided to him the whole story of
the Cameron tragedy, it being separate and distinct from the issue
which had brought the secret service men to Mexico.

Don Miguel maintained a dignified silence--as dignified as a panting
man can hold--through-out the tiresome journey, except on one occasion.
Once, while the night watchman was violently demanding information
concerning the crime with which he was to be charged, the diplomat
asked:

"Why are you so silent concerning the man's alleged crime? It appears
to me that you are conducting an abduction rather than an arrest. I,
also, am anxious to know something of the charges against me."

"You shall know in good time," replied the lieutenant.

"I believe," Don Miguel went on, "that I can convince even you,
prejudiced though you are, that you are making a great mistake--a
costly mistake, both for yourself and your government."

"When we reach the tents I will listen to you," was the short reply,
and the little party went on its way in silence for a long time, silent
save for the mutterings of the Mexican and his fellow-conspirator, as
Nestor believed the watchman to be.

Moonlight lay like a silver mist over the stubborn paths the party was
following. Moving objects could be observed at a great distance, where
the character of the surface permitted, and now and then moving bodies
of men were discernible on the slopes of faraway peaks. Don Miguel's
dusky face seemed to brighten, his eyes to gather almost a smile,
whenever such parties were seen. It was plain to his captors that he
looked upon the wandering bands as friendly to his interests.

Always the marching men--if scrambling up a mountain side in
undignified positions may justly be described as marching--were headed
for heig