"It's his way. Mexicans have a sneaking way about them, you know."
"Well, it may be his way, but I wouldn't trust him."
"I don't propose to trust him," said Frank, with a laugh. "I am not given to trusting greasers. It is probable that he will go away to-morrow and we'll never see anything more of him."
"Perhaps so."
"I expect to find him gone in the morning," said Merry.
But in the morning Pablo was found sleeping just outside Frank's door when Merry opened it. He lay there, his old hat pulled down over his ears, curled up like a dog; but he started wide-awake and sat up, staring at Merriwell with his big black eyes.
"What the dickens you doing here?" asked Frank, annoyed.
"I tak' de sleep," grinned Pablo faintly.
"Well, couldn't you find any other place? Have you been there all night?"