Again he was roughly jerked to a standing position.
The fourth time that Gato was placed on his feet he stood, though he was shaking with fury.
"That's a little better," Tom nodded. "Now, Nicolas, I imagine you know more than I do about where your countrymen carry their extra arms. Search this fellow for weapons, and don't overlook anything."
No pistol was revealed by the search, but a long, keen-edged knife was brought to light.
"No gentleman has any occasion to carry a thing like that," mocked Reade. Thrusting the blade into a cleft of rock close by, Tom snapped the blade, rendering the weapon useless.
"Now, we're ready to go on," announced Tom. "Harry, will you keep behind our guest of the evening and spur him on if he shows signs of lagging?"
"Take this gun, Senor Reade," Nicolas hinted, trying to pass the weapon to the young chief engineer.
"I don't want it," returned Tom, shaking his head and making a gesture of repulsion. "I don't like guns. They always make me nervous. I'm afraid of accidents, you see."
"You take the gun, then, Senor Hazelton," begged Nicolas, turning to the other engineer.
"Don't you believe it," retorted Harry, gruffly. "I'd lose caste forever with Tom if I carried firearms. Tom says that nobody but a coward will carry firearms. You keep the gun yourself."