"I'm going back with him," he stoutly maintained—and he did.
At headquarters Roque took advantage of the first glimpse of daylight to institute work of inquiry, in which practice he was conceded to be without equal. But to no avail. The furthest outpost had seen the riders pass, and, fully satisfied with their credentials, had paid no further attention to their movements.
Somewhere out on the boundless plain, alive or dead, were the three so earnestly and expertly sought for.
"It's a hard nut to crack," Roque stated to a group of officers, "but I have opened just such hulls before, and I am not ready yet to plead inefficiency."
"Perhaps they have fallen into the hands of the enemy," said one of the officers.
"I can hardly believe that an old campaigner like Schneider would run into the lines of the foe with his eyes open. If suddenly attacked by lurking prowlers, I'll warrant we'll find some sign, for I know the man too well to believe he would be taken without a struggle and somebody biting the dust."
Roque had evidently not figured on Schneider's present handicap in the shape of the boys, forcing discretion ahead of valor.
Then the winning thought flashed into the mind of the secret agent—put the ambulance dogs on the trail!
The reminder was the approach of one of the sanitary officers. The latter, when he was told of the situation, at first presented a doubtful front.