“Come on.” Bob took Frank’s arm and headed him about.
Around the corner, and some distance removed from the deserted house which marked the exit of the secret tunnel, stood a taxicab drawn up behind the rattle-and-bang flivver which Bob and Captain Cornell had commandeered at the bull ring. Beside it on the sidewalk stood Mr. Hampton and Jack, and at the wheel drowsed the chauffeur. A quick glance showed Bob he was an American, one of the hardened Laredo breed.
Mutual explanations were quickly made, and then the three boys talked excitedly but in lowered voices, while Mr. Hampton listened with a smile of amusement. Hot heads they were, all for trying to gain entrance to the house into which Captain Cornell had been dragged, despite the fact that they were unarmed.
But Mr. Hampton shook his head.
“Why not?” persisted Bob. “All we have to do is to go up to the door and demand that our friend be turned over to us. There are five of us, counting the chauffeur, and Ramirez wouldn’t dare to start anything with such a mob.”
“But if he should—”
“In broad daylight? I don’t think so,” scoffed Bob.
“This isn’t the United States, Bob,” remarked Mr. Hampton. “No, the best we can do is to keep watch to see that they don’t escape, and for that purpose I think we better divide our forces. Frank and I’ll run around to young Juan’s corner in the taxi, while you and Jack stay here with the flivver. We’ll be ready in either case to take the trail, whether they leave by front or rear. Not that I believe Ramirez will leave until after dark, however.”
“All right,” grumbled Bob. “I’ve got sense enough to see that what you propose is really the right course. Just the same, I’d like a little action.”
Mr. Hampton smiled, then his face drew into a thoughtful frown. “I wonder what is Ramirez’s game,” he said.