"If the Senor is not satisfied," he said, "we shall be pleased to send him back to the City of Mexico." "Oh, no-no-no," was the stammering reply. "I am very well satisfied. All I want is to get out of the country." "Let us hope there will be no trouble about that," was the polite response, and the florid man lapsed into silence. Ordinarily it is a pleasant day's journey from the City of Mexico to the seaport city of Vera Cruz; or if one prefers he may make a night ride of it in times of peace. The train which left the City of Mexico that April morning made no such time. After a tiresome all-day ride with numerous aggravating stops, when darkness fell they were still on the plateau of Mexico, some miles west of Orizaba, running slowly for fear some stray bunch of Carranzistas or Zapatistas might have torn up a length or two of track. It was possibly an hour later that the engine gave a furious jerk, followed by a bump and another jerk, and then the train came to a dead stop. In a minute everybody was on his feet asking everybody else what had happened. As no one knew, there was a general movement for the doors, as it was too dark to see much from the windows. "Sit down, everybody," ordered the guard. "There is no danger, but we have stopped on a high trestle." The passengers obeyed, realizing the danger of leaving the coaches. There was a general round of conversation, and then as the train did not start, people settled back in their seats and tried to sleep. Some minutes later Billie gave Adrian a nudge with his elbow. "Are you asleep?" he asked. "No. Why?" "I've just been looking out of the window. We're not on a trestle." "No? Well, what of it?" "Only that the guard was lying. What did he do it for?" "I don't know. Because he was a Mexican, I guess. Go on to sleep." "That isn't the answer, although it's pretty good. They have some scheme. I wouldn't be surprised if they were going to keep us prisoners somewhere around here." "Nonsense. Go on to sleep." But Billie was not satisfied. He leaned over and tried to talk to Donald, but he was fast asleep. "I think I'll go on a little scouting expedition," he muttered. "I need some exercise." He arose, stretched himself and walked slowly toward the door, which stood wide open. "I wonder where the guard is?" he thought. "It's mighty funny he'd go and leave the coach like this." He stepped on to the coach ahead. The same condition existed. Billie's curiosity got the best of him and he jumped out onto the ground. It was pitch dark, but he had not advanced more than twenty steps before he discovered groups of men seated upon the grass. A second glance convinced him they were armed. He drew back and stood beside the coach, where he thought fast. "There's one of two things," he soliloquized. "We are either prisoners or else we are being guarded against an expected attack. Whichever it is, this is no time for the Broncho Rider Boys to be asleep. I'll go and tell the others."