"Si," grinned the soldier-policeman, all animosity gone. And as the other two men tramped away through the mud they also grinned, looking back at the North and the South American pacing side by side in sentry-go, blowing smoke and conversing like brothers in arms.
"Tim likes to remember his 'general orders,' but he's forgotten Number Five," laughed the blond man.
"Five? 'To talk to no one except in line of duty.' Don't need it here, Merry."
"Nope. The entente cordiale is the thing. Here's hoping nobody makes Tim remember his 'Gin'ral Order Number Thirteen' while we're gone, Rod."
He of the black hair smiled again as his mate, mimicking Tim's gruff voice, quoted:
"'Gin'ral Order Number Thirteen: In case o' doubt, bust the other guy quick.'"
CHAPTER II.
AT SUNDOWN
Past the loungers in the street, past others in the doorways, past children and dogs and goats, the pair marched briskly to the faded blue house whence the federal superintendent ruled the town with tropic indolence. There they found a thin, fever-worn, gravely courteous gentleman awaiting them.