“Of course he never expected there’d be any such fierce mix-up as this,” exclaimed Tom, “or, at least, not so soon. The sound of the firing awakened us—and say—maybe Bob and I didn’t hustle!”
“Then what made you so long in gettin’ here?” asked Cranny.
“Soldiers guarding the International bridge,” responded Tom. “And if it hadn’t been for Captain Julius Braddock, who came that far with us, it would have been a case of swim or wade across the river at some point where there were no officials to stop us!”
All this information was packed into a surprisingly short space of time. The fear of exploding shells was in the hearts of all. They could see the smoke of fires at widely separated points in the town rising high above the housetops.
“Jump up behind me, Cranny,” cried Tom breathlessly. “We’ve got some mighty dangerous work before us!”
“You bet!” exclaimed Cranny. “Here I come, Tom! Look out, old chap!”
With a quick, agile spring he landed safely on the horse’s back, and on the instant the jabbering, rather hostile-looking Mexicans saw the riders head for the plaza at a rattling pace.
Swinging across it, they turned into a narrow, winding street which ran to the west, keeping a sharp lookout for the other Americans.
“Colonel Sylvester certainly would be wild if he knew that Jimmy couldn’t be found,” exclaimed Tom, as he and Bob drew up and halted in the shadow of an old stone wall. “This seems to be one of the cases where a chap can’t follow out any regular plan—it’s just hit or miss!”
“An’ I hope they do miss us,” said Cranny, with the trace of a chuckle in his tone.