Frank figured out, from the date and sending point of the telegram, the probable route of the absent ones to the Mexican line. Yet they could not be sure of even this. Not knowing on what train Janice and Marty traveled, it was impossible to send an answer to Marty's telegram.
"In all probability, however," Frank explained, "El Paso is their ultimate destination, or some town of that string along the Rio Grande touched by the Texas-Pacific. San Cristoval is to be reached more directly from that locality than in any other way, now that the Mexican International is out of commission."
"Oh! don't say they'll really get into Mexico, Mr. Bowman!" cried Aunt 'Mira, who had come into the sitting room now. "They won't be let, will they?"
"Almiry's got the idee," said Mr. Day, "that there's a file of sojers with fixed bayonets standin' all along the aidge of that Rio Grande River, keepin' folks from crossin' over."
"You'd find such a guard at El Paso bridge, all right," Frank said. "But there are plenty of places where the river can be forded, unless raised by infrequent floods. Those who wish to, go back and forth into Mexican territory as they please—no doubt of that."
"But Janice and Marty won't know nothing about that!" cried Mrs. Day.
"Trust Marty for finding out anything he needs to know," put in Nelson, yet with a gloomy air.
"You're right there," Frank added. "He isn't tongue-tied."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Aunt 'Mira. "I don't know as shooting Indians or turning pirate would be much worse. They say them Mexicaners do shoot people."
"I snum, yes!" ejaculated Mr. Day. "They shot Broxton, didn't they?"