“Very shortly,” replied the lecturer. He shifted his position on the rough, wooden bench, and the glow from the lanterns falling across his bronzed features with picturesque effect revealed a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Judging from what has been told to us on the way,” he continued slowly, “that little Mexican town over yonder and its surroundings will be the theater of some exciting events before many days have passed.”
“And if it does turn out that way, we ought to get some bully films,” remarked the photographer.
There was no room in Cranny Beaumont’s mind just now for troublesome thoughts of the future.
“I’m mighty glad these chaps happened along,” he reflected. “It’ll make it easier for me to skip across into old Mexico; and, by Jove, maybe I’ll go with ’em.”
The unusual meeting of the two parties at the old ranch-house proved to be a most pleasant one for all concerned. They talked so many hours, too, that by the time it was decided to turn in, the stout historian sat dozing in a corner.
He complained energetically at being disturbed, but Tom and Dick cruelly hustled him, sleepy-eyed and yawning, to his feet.
“We have to stable our ponies, you know,” Dick reminded him.
“And get up mighty early in the morning,” chimed in Tom. “We don’t want to miss that trip with the Texas Rangers.”
“The Texas Rangers?” queried Professor Kent.
“Yes, sir,” answered Cranny. Then in a few words he explained about their plans for the following day.