rs dot I'm afraid
of," rejoined the German in a quavering voice.

"What then?"

"Dot room behindt us contains, besides der specie, almost a ton of
dynamite!"

"Great jumping wildcats!"

The exclamation dropped from Buck's lips. The others were too
thunderstruck to utter a word.

"There's only one thing to do," spoke up Pete, his words fairly
tumbling out of his mouth in his haste. "We must open the door and, at
a signal, make a rush for it. We may never get through, but it's
better than being blown up as we shall be if we remain here. The
insurrectos must have left their horses somewhere near at hand. Maybe
we can find them and escape."

"It's one chance in a thousand!" exclaimed Jack. "But perhaps this
will be the thousandth time."

"Let us pray so!" exclaimed the professor fervently.

Buck had sprung to the door. His hand was on the bar. He knew, as did
they all, that there was not an instant to lose. Their lives hung by a
hair. At any moment the flames might reach the dynamite and
then--annihilation, swift and terrible.

"Now!" he cried, dropping the bar. A strange light, not of fear but of
determination, gleamed in his eyes.

Clang!

The bar fell to the ground, and the besieged party dashed forth, firing
as they emerged.

Suddenly, from without, and just as the insurrectos espied the daring
sortie, there came the shrill notes of a bugle. At the same instant a
ringing cheer came over the top of the stockade.

What could it all mean? As if in a dream, the boys saw the insurrectos
picking up their rifles and rushing toward the gate. But before they
could reach it, a glorious sight greeted them.

A regiment of regular Mexican cavalry, the men with their carbines
unslung, pouring a disastrous hail into the swarming insurrectos,
suddenly swung through the shattered gateway.

Shouts and cries responded everywhere within the stockade. The
terrified insurrectos dropped their rifles and ran hither and thither
in mad, frenzied panic. It was every one for himself. Over the
stockade they clambered, many paying toll with their lives before the
carbines of Diaz's troopers.

But in the midst of the turmoil a clear, boyish voice arose.

"Back! Get back, for heaven's sake!"

The officer of the Mexican regulars heard, and wheeled his men. He
recognized the thrill of warning in Jack Merrill's tones.

Stumbling forward, the suddenly relieved party of Americans darted
toward the gate for thei