“Hardly, when they don’t know we are following them,” said Vasco. “I’m afraid that’s not true, Noddy. Better own up and say you guessed at the whole thing.”
“I didn’t guess!” exclaimed Noddy.
“Too much talk! Not enough do!” exclaimed one of the Mexicans, striding forward and pushing Noddy to one side. Noddy resented this, and drew back his hand as if to strike the Mexican. The latter, quick as a flash, drew an ugly-looking knife.
“Put that up!” exclaimed Vasco, noting, in the darkness, his companion’s act. “We don’t want to begin fighting among ourselves.”
He stepped between Noddy and the Mexican, and pushed them away from each other. The Mexican muttered angrily, and his companions could be heard growling over the outcome of the affair. They could appreciate a gold or silver mine. A buried city was nothing to them, and they saw no use in pursuing the trail further. They were angry at Noddy for having brought them thus far on a foolish errand.
“Now keep quiet,” advised Bilette. “The first thing you know you’ll have them all aroused and then there’ll be trouble.”
“Diablo!” exclaimed one of the Mexicans, beneath his breath. “Are we fools or children? We leave the city and we travel for days through the wilderness. We are told we are to get great riches. Santa Maria! Is this money? Is this gold or silver? The crazy Americanos talk of nothing but lost cities. What care I for lost cities? What care any of us for lost cities? I hate lost cities!”
“And I! And I!” exclaimed his companions, in whispers.
“And this fellow, Noddy Nixon, is to blame for it all!” went on the angry Mexican. “He gets us all to come out here. We follow the crazy Americano who does nothing but grab bugs and toads. He is man to be afraid of! Yet we follow him, and all for what? To find he is looking for some old ruins. I will not stand it!”
“Clear out of here!” commanded Bilette. “If we stand here quarreling much longer they’ll wake up.”