“It’s just this way,” Mendosa was saying in a low tone to Phillips. “The whole country is astir over the smuggling going on, and will be full of officers in no time. Even if the police do not come here to get us, it is not improbable that they will blunder into our camp some night and lug us away as suspicious characters.” “What ought we to do then?” asked Phillips. “We ought to get out,” Mendosa replied. “Why, even the forest rangers are coming down here looking for you. I never did think it was good sense for you to wear that uniform.” “Now don’t kick!” snarled Phillips. “It’s enough to make a man kick!” Mendosa declared. “Here we thought we had a neat little home for the next three months, with no one aware of our presence here, and no danger of going hungry. But just look what we’re up against at this moment! I wish we could get one of the steamers that come up here with smuggled Chinks.” “Much good that would do!” sneered Phillips. “That’s what you say to all my suggestions,” Mendosa snarled. “Then talk sense!” demanded Phillips. “How’s this for sense, then?” asked Mendosa. “Suppose we disappear in that flying machine as soon as it gets dark.” “Can you run it?” asked Phillips, scornfully. “Of course not!” was the answer. “I can run a faro lay-out, but I can’t run an aeroplane.” “Then where is the sense in the suggestion?” “The boy can run it!” declared Mendoza. “Yes, but will he?” “Will he?” repeated Mendoza. “Let me get a knife next to his ribs and he’ll do anything I tell him to do!” “But will the machine carry us two and the boys?” “The boys?” scorned Mendoza. “We don’t have to take both boys with us! We can cut the kid’s throat and leave him in the bushes!” “I wouldn’t like to do that,” Phillips said, hesitatingly. “You wouldn’t, eh?” demanded Mendoza. “Who struck the watchman?” “I didn’t!” replied Phillips. “Yes, you did!” sneered the other. “Now, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he went on. “Just as soon as it becomes dark, we’ll settle the kid’s case and mount the machine with the other one. There are only two seats, but I’ll hold him in my lap, so I can embroider his back with my knife if he don’t do exactly as I tell him to. After he gets us out of the country, way down into lower California, we’ll drop the machine, boy and all into the ocean.” “I’m a burglar but not a murderer!” insisted Phillips. “Unless we do something,” Mendoza exclaimed, “you won’t be either a burglar or a murderer. You’ll be a corpse. For my part, I have no inclinations toward New York and the electric chair.” “It may not be necessary for us to injure the boy,” Phillips suggested.