"He is no business of mine," replied the Colonel, briefly. "He was out of favor with the Carranza government and evidently hopes to get into the saddle again through the revolution. Personally, I do not believe he will. General Obregon is not fond of his type. Angel Gonzales is what you call in your country a regular bad lot. I have orders in this dispatch to look into his case. As to the automobile. I can give you an order for the car which you saw outside--the small one. I can't spare any men." "Mendoza's Ford?" groaned Tom. "I knew I'd draw that. Well, never mind, senor. I'm obliged to you just the same." The order written, Mendoza was induced to start. "What the devil are those for?" demanded Johnson, as he saw the old Mexican putting three large cans in the car. "Water," replied Mendoza, tersely. "Las' time I drive him ze radiator he leak. I mend him, but _quien sabe_? We play safe, eh?" "My God, yes," murmured Tom. "Come on, _amigo_, it's near six and this here's no country to be rattlin' round in a damaged Ford after dark." The little car justified its owner's faith in it, however, for it went along at a good clip. The road from Conejo was fairly good and they made good time. The sun was down and the evening had set when they reached the place where Scott and Polly had taken the trail. Mendoza stopped the car. "Lots of men been by here," he said. "Soldiers or bandits--mebbe bot'." "What d'ye mean?" demanded Tom, waking up. "How can you tell?" "Don' have to be Injun to know dat. See tracks," grunted Mendoza. "Mebbe hundred men come here from trail, _amigo_." Tom looked. The banks of the river were broken and trodden by the feet of many horses. Even in the dim light he could see that, though he would never have noticed it for himself. He admitted when Mendoza persisted that it did look as though a large party of horsemen had crossed the river. "Well, they've passed anyhow, so we should worry. Got a gun?" "_Si_," grinned Mendoza, cheerfully, "I always got a gun." "Hold on, what's this?" They had come around the corner and saw, by the edge of the road, the wrecked wagon. "That's Herrick's wagon," said Tom, excitedly. "In the ditch!" He got down and went to investigate. "Wheel's busted. Horses must have got scared and bolted round the curve," said the engineer, meditatively. "Nothin' in the wagon. Looks bad to me; don't it to you, Mendoza?" "_Si_," responded Mendoza. "We go by Soria's place. He know mebbe what happen." "All right," assented Tom, sadly. "If they'd got away on the horses seems to me we'd have seen or heard somethin' of them on the road. Unless they went by the trail--in that case them fellers on horseback would have met 'em. Well, step on your gas, Mendoza, and let's get to Soria's."