ould not have any trouble with the
Mexicans.

The letter from Ben Basswood had been rather a disheartening
communication. Ben wrote that his father did not seem to regain his
health as rapidly as the doctor had anticipated, and that nothing new
concerning Ward Porton or Tim Crapsey had been uncovered. Ben added
that he had written to the authorities in New York City concerning
Porton and had received word back that they had been unable to locate
the former moving-picture actor.

"I believe the loss of those miniatures has had its full effect on Mr.
Basswood," remarked Dave, when speaking of the matter to his chum. "I
suppose it makes him feel blue, and that retards his recovery."

"More than likely," answered Roger. "A person can't very well throw
off a heavy spell of sickness when he is so depressed in spirits. It's
too bad! And I suppose Mrs. Basswood feels dreadful to think she was
the one to let the fortune slip out of their hands."

"No doubt of it, Roger. Of course, it's easy enough to blame her, and
I suppose a great many of their neighbors do. But, just the same,
place yourself in her position--worried half to death over the
sickness of her husband--and you might have done the same thing."

It was a warm evening and the chums took their time in returning to
the camp, knowing supper would not be served until a little later.
During the day several shots had been heard at a great distance to the
southward, and some of the civil engineers had wondered if some sort
of a scrimmage was taking place on the other side of the Rio Grande.

"If a fight is in progress I hope it doesn't extend to this
neighborhood," remarked one of the engineers, in speaking of the
matter. "We've got troubles enough of our own--getting this bridge
right--without having the greasers interfering with our work;" and he
gave a grim laugh.

When the chums arrived in camp they found that the day's mail had come
in. There was a Washington newspaper for Roger containing an address
delivered in the Senate by Senator Morr, and also a long letter for
our hero from Ben.

"Well, here is news at last!" cried Dave, as he scanned the
communication. "Come on out here, away from the crowd, Roger, and I'll
read it to you;" and then he led the way to a corner and acquainted
his chum with the contents of the letter, which was as follows:

"I know you will be interested to learn that we have at last heard
from that rascal, Tim Crapsey, who, with War