His own voice was shaken. He knew that something very serious must have occurred or Marty Day would not act in this manner. They hurried across the yard and Marty unbarred the garage door. Nobody in Polktown thought of locking any outbuilding, save possibly the corn-crib or the smoke-house. Marty closed the door tightly before Nelson scratched a match and fumbled for the latch of the kerosene side lamp of Janice's automobile. In the yellow radiance of this he unfolded the newspaper Marty had seized at the public library. The schoolmaster looked at once at the extreme right-hand column of the front page of the paper--the column in which the Mexican news was usually displayed. A sub-heading caught his eye almost instantly: MORE AMERICANS BUTCHERED A great revolt had again broken out against the de facto government. It was spreading, the report said, hourly. In the Companos District the wires had been cut, but it was known that there had been much bloodshed there. Several of the former insurrecto leaders who had recently gone over to the existing party in power at Mexico City, were reported assassinated, among them Juan Dicampa. "And he was Mr. Day's friend--he served him well during the last uprising in that district!" Nelson ejaculated. "That ain't the worst. Read on," breathed Marty. "Great heavens! can it be possible?" whispered Nelson. "The mines in the Companos District have all been seized by the insurrectos. The peons working them have been forced into the ranks of the revolutionists. Not an American has escaped from the district and several are known to have been killed. At the Alderdice Mine, fourteen miles north of San Cristoval, it is said the superintendent, B. Day, has been wounded and is held prisoner." "Wh--what do you know about _that_?" stuttered Marty. "Uncle Brocky's hurt and they won't let him go." "Hush!" commanded Nelson. "Aw--there's nobody to hear," choked the boy. "And how can we keep it from Janice?" "We must!" exclaimed Nelson. "Say, Nelson Haley! You got to be mighty smart to keep Janice from finding out every little thing. You know that. And she's always looking for something to happen to Uncle Brocky." "We can do it. We _must_ do it," responded the schoolmaster. Marty was round-eyed and unbelieving. "Say! you don't know Janice yet," he repeated with assurance. "She's a mighty smart girl--the smartest girl in the whole of Polktown. Aw--well, you ought to know." "I don't know how we are to do it--yet," the schoolmaster agreed. "We'll just _have_ to. When people have to do a thing, Marty, _they do it nine times out of ten_!" "Hi tunket!" gasped the boy. "You tell me my part and I'll help all right." "Come on, then. Stroll in naturally. Make believe there is something up--some joke that we are going to keep Janice out of----" "Joke!" groaned Marty. "I tell you," commanded Nelson hotly, "we've got to keep this from her. Her father wounded--think of it!"