Part 39 (1/2)

”It was wonderful,” Dave breathed. ”And I've brought back news of great importance!”

”Did you get it from Mexico City or Was.h.i.+ngton?” Trent broke in.

”Of course not,” Dave said, wonderingly.

”Then you've no such news as we can tell you,” Danny went on, quickly, sadly. ”Can you guess what it is?”

”Our government isn't going to surrender us to the Huerta forces, is it?”

”Not quite so bad as that,” Dan admitted. ”But listen! The governments of Brazil, Argentine and Chili have offered their services in arranging mediation between Was.h.i.+ngton and Mexico City. And Was.h.i.+ngton has accepted!”

”No war?” gasped Dave Darrin, thunderstruck. ”No war against a country that has treated our citizens so outrageously? Has Huerta accepted, too?”

”We haven't heard, as yet,” Trent took up the thread of information, ”but there is a rumor that Huerta will be only too glad to accept, even if only as a bluff. If, by any kind of a scheme, he can hold us off for a few weeks, he will then have his army consolidated, will have the railroad and bridges destroyed, and the mountain roads to Mexico City all planted with mines, and then be able, most likely, to make the advance of our Army to Mexico City cost us hundreds of good Yankee lives per mile!”

”And Funston's brigade of regulars is on the way, too!” Danny Grin added, sorrowfully. ”Won't there be some mad soldier-boys?”

Ensign Dave Darrin stood with bowed head for a few moments. To him it seemed hard indeed, if the Mexicans, after almost countless outrages against American citizens, even to the extent of a.s.sa.s.sination---and worse---were to escape their richly deserved punishment through a few tricks of diplomacy.

Then the spirit of the service, so strong in him, came to the surface. To others belonged the right of command, his only the privilege to obey.

He raised his head, smiling. Then his own matter of report leaped back into his mind. Bringing his heels together, straightening up, he saluted:

”Sir, I have the honor to report that, while on the air flight, I noted the location of a solitary adobe house about four miles out. From that house came two men whom I distinctly recognized through my field gla.s.s to be Lieutenant Cantor and the bandit, Cosetta. Lieutenant Cantor, after one or two upward looks, bowed his head and kept his eyes to the ground, but I am positive, sir, of my identification of both men.”

”And Cosetta's bandits?” inquired Trent. ”Did you see any signs of them?”

”No, sir, but the adobe house is large enough to hide them all.”

”Any trenches near the house?”

”No, sir.”

”I am afraid it would do little good to approach the house in broad daylight,” Lieutenant Trent reflected, excitedly, ”but it should make an excellent enterprise late in the night. I will report this matter to Commander Dillingham, in command of the advanced line. With his permission, we'll try to-night for the capture of that much needed pair of rascals.”

”Our signalman is being called from the advanced line, sir,” reported a saluting sailorman.

Wheeling, Trent ordered his own signalman to wig-wag, ”Go ahead.”

Then the lieutenant stood reading the message.

”You will fall back upon the advanced line,” the signal read.

”Send 'O.K.,'” called the lieutenant.

”Sir,” cried a sentry, ”There's a party coming in. You can just make 'em out, sir.”

Stepping forward, Trent brought up his fieldgla.s.ses, while Dave informed him:

”That was the second matter upon which I intended to report to you, sir. I observed those people from the airs.h.i.+p. I believe them to be refugees.”