Under the guidance of their leader, the Mexicans made their way back to the river bank. On the opposite shore they had left their horses and Noddy’s automobile.
“What made you think they were after a mine, Noddy?” asked Bilette, when the party was well beyond earshot of the campers. “You must have made a mistake.”
“Supposing I did,” whispered Noddy, in low tones to Vasco, “what good will it do to tell every one? I may have failed on this plan, but I have another, even better.”
“Better not try it until you find if it will work,” advised Bilette. “My men are in no mood to be fooled a second time.”
Disappointed and dejected, the Mexicans recrossed the river and made their camp on the opposite shore from Professor Snodgrass and the boys. The Mexicans were still in a surly mood, and Vasco had to keep close watch lest some one of them should harm Noddy.
Wet and cold, for if the days were hot the nights were chilly, the Nixon gang reached their camp. One of the men lighted a fire and cooked some frijoles and tortillas. The meal, simple as it was, made every one feel better.
Nixon and Pender, as soon as they had finished eating, drew off to one side, leaving the Mexicans to talk among themselves.
“It looks as if we’d have trouble,” said Noddy.
“It’s all your fault,” observed Pender.
“I’m not saying it isn’t,” put in Noddy. “But what’s the use of crying over spilled milk? The question is: What are we going to do about it now?”