"I know a little of the kind that I learned in the Philippines," Hal answered.
"You may be able to understand the Mexican patter, then. But don't let them know that you understand it."
A brisk walk brought the two Army officers to one of the most substantial houses in the Mexican quarter. It was a two-story frame house, kept in a fairly tidy condition. Behind the house was a wooden barn, still larger.
Captain Foster did not trouble himself to approach the house, around which there were no signs of life. Instead he walked hurriedly through the yard. Just as the two officers neared the barn the door was seen to slide on its roller.
"Keep them from closing that door, Overton!" cried Captain Foster. Hal bounded forward, thrusting his right foot in the crack just in time to prevent the door closing.
"I'll help you push that door open again," cried the captain. Between them they succeeded, driving the door back, wide open, revealing two scowling young Mexican hostlers.
"You g'way!" snarled one of them in a surly tone.
"Where's your master, Pedro Guarez?" demanded Captain Foster.
"Dunno. He far away. G'way. I wanta close this door."
"Don't you attempt to do it," warned Captain Foster stiffly. "Mr. Overton, stand here and see that these fellows don't close the door. I'm going to, look around inside."