safety, the lad argued with a wisdom beyond his years, was in facing
emergencies as they came, without betraying by outward signs whatever
of inward perturbation they might feel.

"I think we had better ride eastward, till we come to some village or
town," Jack was beginning, in response to Walt's question, when a voice
from behind suddenly hailed them in unmistakably American accents.

"Ah, here you are, gentlemen. We've been expecting you."

The boys wheeled to find that a horseman stood beside them. He had
ridden almost noiselessly over the soft grass, which accounted for
their not having heard his approach. Jack took in the new arrival's
figure in a quick, comprehensive glance.

The man who now faced them was a stalwart-looking chap of about thirty.
His face was bronzed and his eyes keen. The face of one who has lived
much out of doors. His manner seemed frank and open--even hearty--but
any one skilled in reading faces would have noted in the rather
receding chin and the eyes set close together that, in spite of his
apparent heartiness, the newcomer was a man of limited reliability.
The sort of chap, in short, who, while fearless up to a certain point
and adventurous to a degree, would yet in an extremity look out for
"Number One."

As for his dress, it was much the same as the boys'. Sombrero, leather
chaps well worn, blue shirt, and red neck handkerchief. Jack's keen
eyes noted, too, that the pommel of his saddle bore some recent bullet
scars, and that in two bearskin holsters reposed the formidable-looking
butts of two heavy-caliber revolvers. The war-like note was further
enhanced by the fact that across his saddle horn the new arrival
carried a Remington rifle.

The boys' position was now an extraordinary one. Advancing toward them
down the road, was, what they could now perceive to be, a considerable
body of horsemen. As if this were not enough to raise a question of
whether it was better to fly or remain where they were, here was this
total stranger, perhaps an American, too, hailing them as if he knew
them, or, at least, had expected to meet them there. Jack's mind was
made up in a flash, but, even in the brief instant he hesitated, the
stranger's keen, close-set eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I'm not mistaken, am I? You expected to meet me here?"

"Yes, yes, of course," responded Jack quickly, and in as easy a tone as
he could command; "I hope we're not late?"

"No; there comes Madero