“I’m mighty sorry about that, Tim,” replied the daredevil and there was a convincing ring of sincerity to his words, “I was surprised to see you and didn’t realize what I was saying.”
“Do you think Lopez will keep us here long?”
“Think? I don’t have to think. After what he said back there at the field, it may be curtains for us.”
“He wouldn’t dare put us out of the way for good,” protested Tim.
“Yes, he would,” replied the daredevil. “Lopez is in a desperate situation. If you took those pictures back to the border he would be instantly recognized when he tried to make his getaway. He’ll go to any end to keep his pictures from being broadcast all over the U. S. A., and especially along the border.”
“That’s just what Captain Talbot of the border patrol at Nogales told me,” said Tim. “He advised me not to make the trip down here and it commences to look like he was right.”
“Talbot’s got some fine flyers,” said Dugan dryly. “One of them chased me for fifteen minutes when I crossed the border and shot my wings so full of holes I thought I was flying in a sieve.”
Their conversation was interrupted when the door swung open and an officer ordered them to follow him. They were escorted across the plaza to the only hotel in the village, a straggling adobe structure where the rebel chieftain made his headquarters.
General Lopez wasted no words when they faced him.
“My council of war,” he began as he pointed to a half dozen grinning officers at his side, “has decided that you are dangerous to our cause. This man,” and he pointed at Tim, “has made a deliberate attempt to jeopardize my own life, while you,” and he snapped the words at Dugan, “know too much for your own good.”