“And my commands are worth nothing, are they, my man? I waste my breath telling you that I must not be disturbed, and you allow the first rascally Americano who comes along to come thundering at my door. Very well! It will be your turn later!” Again his glance shifted to Dave. The young American saluted in stiff military fashion. “Pardon me, señor,” he said. “It is my misfortune that I had to break in upon your slumbers. The fact is----” But the man stopped him sharply. “Enough!” said he. “Who are you?” “We belong to the schooner ‘Gadfly.’” “What are you doing here?” Dave related in a few words the same story he had told the sentry. The officer listened, all the time prodding the sun-baked earth before the door with the point of his sword; there was a scowl upon his heavy face, and the small angry eyes looked red and threatening. “A pretty story,” said he. “Your passports!” “They are on board the schooner. In our hurry to pursue Lopez we forgot them.” The captain showed his teeth in what was meant for a smile. Unquestionably this fact pleased him. “Give the sentry your arms,” he said. “You are under arrest.” Dave fell back a step or two. “He means business,” he called over his shoulder to his friend in English. “And once he gets our guns there’s no knowing what will happen.” “Well, we don’t give them up until we’re sure,” answered Joe promptly, throwing his weapon forward as he spoke, and covertly preparing for any action that might be forced upon them. “Talk to him, old boy; maybe you can bring him around.” The Mexican had followed Dave with cat-like tread; his sword was now held at arm’s length, the point not more than a foot from the lad’s chest. “Halt!” commanded he. And as Dave turned his face toward him once more, the man went on: “I have met with impudent Americanos before this. And I know the way to deal with them. Lay down your rifles!” Instead of doing so, Dave’s grip tightened about the stock of his weapon; the officer saw this and without another word his arm drew back for a swinging cut. Dave threw up the barrel of his rifle to guard his head; the barefooted sentry saw the motion and read in it peril for his officer, for his musket lifted instantly, pointing at Dave. But Joe, in his turn, saw this, leaped forward and grasped the sentry’s arm; the muzzle of his piece was thrown up just as it exploded; and the captain went staggering back, fear in his face. “Guard! Guard!” he shouted. “Help! Would you see me murdered! Guard!”