"Why," Tubby immediately started in to say, "Uncle Mark Matthews is a brother of my mother. He's always been a queer sort of fish, crazy about hunting orchids, and all that sort of stuff, you know. Spent years and years down in tropical South America, where no white man had ever been before; and has a whole raft of strange plants, birds, butterflies and what-not named after him. He settled down in Mexico some years ago, and got together quite a respectable lot of prize cattle on a ranch that's in the northern part of the country. And that is where a lot of this fighting business has been going on between the rebels under Villa and the troops of Huerta, now playing his little part as president of the republic.
"About a year or more ago it seems that Uncle Mark got the old fever on him again; and this time it was Africa that called him. He wanted to do something big over there before he found himself too old, he says. Anyway, he put his ranch in charge of a man he believed he could trust with things, even if he was a greaser; and away he cut for the heart of the Dark Continent.
"Well, he came near losing his life there, dying of the jungle fever, or some kind of thing like that; and when, after a hard fight, he managed to reach the coast, heading for America, first thing he heard was that there were hot times all around where his prize ranch was located; and also that if his bunch of cattle worth a fortune hadn't been confiscated yet, they'd soon be lost to him. It seems that Uncle Mark has lost a good part of the big pile he once owned, and if this ranch was sacked he'd be in a bad hole; and that is what is worrying him right now.
"If it is going to be saved at all, somebody has just got to go down there and do the business; and Uncle Mark is too sick a man to dream of trying it. That's why he's been talking to me as he has. You see, ordinarily he wouldn't think of entrusting such a risky job to a boy of my age; but ever since he's come to Hampton he's been hearing about what clever chaps the Boy Scouts are, and particularly you, Rob, and Merritt, here; and he told me again last night that if only it might be fixed so you could go along—yes, and you, too, Andy, don't think I'd leave you out of this deal—he'd hand the whole business over to me to handle. And let me tell you, it looks like things might be shaping that way right now, when you give me to understand, Rob, that the Academy is a wreck, and that there can't be any school for six or eight weeks. And that's why I'm tickled to death, and feel like throwing my hat over the church steeple with joy. Because, don't you see, fellers, it's going to mean a glorious trip for the whole four of us, a chance to see what Mexico looks like in war times, and perhaps even an opportunity to run across some of the natives who are doing all the fighting!"
But Rob looked serious, as though there were things that he wanted explained before he could consent to consider such a wild goose chase.
CHAPTER IX.
FIGURING IT ALL OUT.
"Just hold your horses a bit, Tubby; you're going so fast I'm afraid you'll break your neck," Rob told the fat boy. "Why, nobody ever saw you half so excited in all your life as you are now."
"Well, who wouldn't be, when everything is rooting for us to make that lovely trip down to the land of sunshine, where there is something doing every minute of the time right now?" Tubby declared. "And all I hope is, first, that this rumor about the school roof taking wings and blowing away doesn't turn out to be a fizzle; and, second, that you will make up your mind to go along with me, Rob. Because I'm banking on the rest falling all over themselves to sneeze if only you take snuff. That right, fellers?"