Ominous and startling, a fusillade of rifle shots, coming from the Mexican border, rang out on the still night air.
CHAPTER XIII
THE STORM BREAKS
The boys in the little Mexican town, on the day following their meeting with Jimmy Raymond, “the boy pianist,” as Tom called him, began to see trouble. The air of peace and tranquillity was partly gone. Soldiers in great numbers, both mounted and afoot, swarmed through the narrow twisting streets. Slouchy-looking citizens deserted for the time being pleasant lounging places, to assist in the work of placing sand-bags and beams on the roofs of some of the higher buildings.
Walking to the outskirts of the city in the company of Professor Kent, George Parry, and the special correspondent, the boys watched sappers at work digging additional trenches, while to the left of these more breastworks were being thrown up.
“It’s just like living over a powder magazine, with somebody goin’ to touch off the fuse, only one doesn’t know just when,” declared Cranny.
“That’s the delightful part of it,” commented Dick. “Expectancy in a case like this is all the pleasure.”
“Speaking seriously, boys, I think you had better cross the International bridge to-day,” put in the professor. “The United States Consul has advised all Americans to leave the town.”
“I agree with you,” declared Bob. “There is no use in our taking unnecessary risks.”
“Very sensible, indeed,” said George Parry, nodding his head approvingly. “Our business, however, keeps us here. A moving picture of a real, red-hot Mexican scrap ought to prove a winner.”
“How about you, Mr. Edmunds?” demanded Cranny.