"So I just put two an' two together. Anyhow, it finally came to me who you were. Am I right?"
"Yes," said Jack, taking the initiative as Stone concluded, "you are correct. It is my father who is held prisoner by the Mexicans, and these are my chums."
Jack regarded the other searchingly.
"We're in trouble," he said, simply, "and we need help that you could give us. How closely are you tied up with the rebels? You're an American and we are Americans. Does that mean anything to you?"
"Yes, kid, it does," said Stone. Despite the fact that he was only seven or eight years older than the three chums, he had led a roving life that had given him a world of experience and an older viewpoint, and he persisted in regarding them as youngsters. "I'm strong for the good old U.S.A.," he continued.
"But don't get me wrong. These are fine people down here, and don't you believe they ain't. Their standards aren't American standards either in manners or politics. But, just the same, they're good folks, and don't you let anybody tell you different. I wouldn't turn against them for anything. So, although your fathers have lots of money"—here he looked fixedly at Bob, who felt uncomfortable remembering his father's authorization to offer Stone money to help them—"well, don't offer me any, that's all."
Bob was silent, but Jack again stepped into the breach.
"Good for you," he said warmly. "I'm glad to hear you talk that way. But"—and here Jack paused impressively—"suppose the imprisonment of my father threatened the peace and prosperity of the 'good old U.S.A.' as you call it. What then?"
Stone looked troubled.
"See here," he said. "What are you driving at?"