The purple-faced man laughed harshly. He was in a deadly frame of mind.
Presently two soldiers came down, halting in the cabin doorway.
"We are ready, sir," spoke one of them.
"Ready for what?" jeered the stranger. "Have you come to shoot me?"
"We're nearing the dock at Agua Dulce, sir, and the lieutenant sent us to get you and make sure that you don't try to escape."
"I'll be bound that you won't give me any chance to get away," jeered the fellow.
"No, sir," answered the soldier gravely.
The Mexican helmsman proved that he was no mean boat-handler. He ran in alongside the dock, making nearly as fine a landing as Skipper Tom Halstead himself could have done. Lieutenant Hal waited only long enough for Corporal Shimple to send over two men from the tug in a row-boat to stand guard over the motor boat prize. Then, with his own boat squad, and leaving behind only the dead and the wounded Mexican, the Army boy marched his prisoners by a route that led around the village instead of through it.
Captain Foster had lain down, fully dressed, prepared to be called at any moment. He now came forth from his tent. He heard Lieutenant Hal's brief report with few interruptions.
"Your name, sir?" demanded Foster, turning to the purple-faced one.