"I'm sick and tired with disgust that Don Luis should think he could use us to bait his money-traps with," Hazelton retorted.
"Let's turn in and get a good night's rest."
"Oh, bother!" retorted the junior engineer. "I couldn't sleep. Tom, I shan't sleep a wink to-night, for dreading that you'll turn rascal-helper. Tell me that you've been joking with me, Tom!"
"But I can't truthfully tell you that," Reade insisted. "I am not joking, and haven't been joking to-night."
"Then I wish you'd open up and tell me a few things."
"Wait," begged Tom. "Wait until I'm sure that the few things will bear telling."
With that much Harry Hazelton found that he would have to be content.
He allowed himself to be persuaded to turn in.
Tom Reade was asleep in a few minutes. It was after two in the morning ere Harry, after racking his brains in vain, fell asleep.
The next morning it was found that the stranger in the back of the cook tent had made good his prophecy by vanishing.