"Do you know where there is any water in this country?" asked Jo. "We are as dry as a desert."
"Certainly, Senor, I will show you," replied Manuel. (It was true that Manuel spoke in Spanish of which language the boys had a working knowledge, due to their sojourn in the southwest. But I shall put his words in English.) "Where is Senor Juarez?" inquired the dwarf. "I do not see him."
"The Senor is still with us," replied Jim, gravely, "but you cannot see him on account of the dusk, but you might hear him," he added in a lower tone.
It was true that Juarez was growling to himself about the greaser for whom you know he had a cordial antipathy, a feeling which was reciprocated by the Mexican.
"Lead on, Manuel," urged Jim, "we want to make camp before morning."
"But, Senor, the tiger will eat me up," objected the Mexican.
"I will take care of Caliente. He won't bite you. Go ahead."
"Si, Senor," assented Manuel.
Then he jumped down from the rock and took the trail at a discreet distance ahead of Jim's horse, who was held in check by his rider though his temper seemed in no wise abated. There was something sinister in the figure of the Mexican as he led the way down the trail.
All in black, except the gray of his hat with its golden cord and the tinsel of his clothes. There was something malignant in his make-up and even the unimaginative Jim was affected by the presence of the Mexican, while Juarez was very uneasy, and asked Jo and Tom to allow him to move up next to the Captain. This they did, though it left Jo as rear guard on that rocky trail.