"Bless my toothpick!" cried Mr. Damon. "It isn't possible, Tom?"
"Yes, it is," said the young inventor. "It's the Fogers all right. Take a look for yourself, Ned."
The other lad did, and confirmed his chum's news, and then Mr. Damon also made sure, by using the glass.
"No doubt of it," the odd man said. "But what are you going to do, Tom?"
Our hero thought for a moment. Then, once more, he looked steadfastly through the glass at the other carts. The occupants of them did not appear to know that they were under observation, and at that distance they could not have made out our friends without a telescope. Tom ascertained that the Fogers were not using one.
"Has Senor Swift any orders?" asked Delazes. "Who are these Fogers? Enemies of yours I take it. Why should they follow you merely to find a ruined city, that the ruins and relics may be studied?"
"Here are the orders," spoke Tom, a bit sharply, not answering the question. "We'll camp and have supper, and then we'll go on and make all the distance we can after dark."
"What, travel at night?" cried the Mexican, as if in horror at the suggestion.
"Yes; why not?" asked Tom calmly. "They can't see us after dark, and if we can strike off on another trail we may throw them off our track. Surely we'll travel after supper."
"But it will be night--dark--we never work after dark," protested Delazes.