"I guess he's nothing but a bag of wind," was Roger's comment, on hearing this. "The company is probably much better off to have such a chap among the missing." "I don't see what he can do to hurt the company," had been Dave's answer. "He was probably discharged for good cause." Although so far away from home, it must not be supposed that Dave and Roger had forgotten the folks left behind. They had sent numerous letters telling of their various experiences and of what they hoped to do in the future. In return Roger had received one letter from his father and another from his mother, and Dave had gotten communications from his sister Laura and from Jessie, and also a long letter from Ben. Of these the letter received from Jessie was to our hero the most important, and it must be confessed that he read it a number of times. The girl was greatly interested in all that he had told her about his work, and she said she hoped he would become a great civil engineer, and that she certainly trusted he would 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.