“Come now, that’s putting it on a little bit too thick!” remonstrated Dot. “Linda’s not such a saint as that. I remember many a time that she climbed cherry trees that didn’t belong to her, and skinned out of school—”
“That’s enough about me,” interrupted Linda. “It’s getting so dark, I think we ought to make our plans for the night.”
“I suppose we have to stay here,” remarked Dot, with a sigh.
“Why the sigh?” asked Chase.
“Oh, I don’t care for camping out—in Mexico.”
“I don’t blame you—after being chloroformed,” sympathized Chase. “But you don’t have to, tonight. For I found a straw-covered shack over near the stream where I got our water. You girls can have that. I’ll stay up here, beside the autogiro.”
“You have redeemed yourself, Bert!” exclaimed Dot, jumping to her feet, and shaking his hand. “For one night at least, we’ll be safe!”
CHAPTER XI
FLIRTING WITH DEATH
The little Mexican adobe house which Bert Chase had discovered was the funniest Linda and Dot had ever seen. A one-room affair, with a slanting straw-covered roof, and no windows. Only two doors, opening back and front.
“I’d almost rather sleep under the stars,” remarked Linda. “For there are probably all sorts of bugs in the corners and cracks.”