The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Motor Boys in Mexico, by Clarence Young

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[THE BIG BEAST HAD A MONKEY IN ITS MOUTH.]

The Motor Boys in Mexico

OR

THE SECRET OF THE BURIED CITY

By CLARENCE YOUNG

Author of
“The Racer Boys Series” and “The Jack Ranger Series.”

NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON CO.

BOOKS BY CLARENCE YOUNG

THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES

(Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of.)

12mo. Illustrated
Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid

THE MOTOR BOYS
Or Chums Through Thick and Thin

THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND
Or A Long Trip for Fun and Fortune

THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO
Or The Secret of the Buried City

THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS
Or The Hermit of Lost Lake

THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT
Or The Stirring Cruise of the Dartaway

THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC
Or The Mystery of the Lighthouse

THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS
Or Lost in a Floating Forest

THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC
Or The Young Derelict Hunters

THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS
Or A Trip for Fame and Fortune

THE JACK RANGER SERIES

12mo. Finely Illustrated
Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid

JACK RANGER’S SCHOOLDAYS
Or The Rivals of Washington Hall

JACK RANGER’S WESTERN TRIP
Or From Boarding School to Ranch and Range

JACK RANGER’S SCHOOL VICTORIES
Or Track, Gridiron and Diamond

JACK RANGER’S OCEAN CRUISE
Or The Wreck of the Polly Ann

JACK RANGER’S GUN CLUB
Or From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail

Copyright, 1906, by
Cupples & Leon Company

The Motor Boys in Mexico

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PREFACE.

Dear Boys:

At last I am able to give you the third volume of “The Motor Boys Series,” a line of books relating the doings of several wide-awake lads on wheels, in and around their homes and in foreign lands.

The first volume of this series, called “The Motor Boys,” told how Ned, Bob and Jerry became the proud possessors of motor-cycles, and won several races of importance, including one which gave to them, something that they desired with all their hearts, a big automobile touring car.

Having obtained the automobile, the lads were not content until they arranged for a long trip to the great West, as told in “The Motor Boys Overland.” On the way they fell in with an old miner, who held the secret concerning the location of a lost gold mine, and it was for this mine that they headed, beating out some rivals who were also their bitter enemies.

While at the mine the boys, through a learned professor, learned of a buried city in Mexico, said to contain treasures of vast importance. Their curiosity was fired, and they arranged to go to Mexico in their touring car, and the present volume tells how this trip was accomplished.

Being something of an automobile enthusiast myself, it has pleased me greatly to write this story, and I hope the boys will like “The Motor Boys in Mexico” fully as well as they appeared to enjoy “The Motor Boys” and “The Motor Boys Overland.”

Clarence Young.

May 28, 1906.

THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO.

[CHAPTER I.]
THE PROFESSOR IN TROUBLE.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

It was the sound of a big revolver being fired rapidly.

“Hi, there! Who you shootin’ at?” yelled a voice.

Miners ran from rude shacks and huts to see what the trouble was. Down the valley, in front of a log cabin, there was a cloud of smoke.

“Who’s killed? What’s the matter? Is it a fight?” were questions the men asked rapidly of each other. Down by the cabin whence the shots sounded, and where the white vapor was rolling away, a Chinaman was observed dancing about on one foot, holding the other in his hands.

“What is it?” asked a tall, bronzed youth, coming from his cabin near the shaft of a mine on top of a small hill. “Cowboys shooting the town up?”

“I guess it’s only a case of a Chinaman fooling with a gun, Jerry. Shall I run down and take a look?” asked a fat, jolly, good-natured-looking lad.

“Might as well, Chunky,” said the other. “Then come back and tell Ned and me. My, but it’s warm!”

The stout youth, whom his companion had called Chunky, in reference to his stoutness, hurried down toward the cabin, about which a number of the miners were gathering. In a little while he returned.

“That was it,” he said. “Dan Beard’s Chinese cook got hold of a revolver and wanted to see how it worked. He found out.”

“Is he much hurt?” asked a third youth, who had joined the one addressed as Jerry, in the cabin door.

“One bullet hit his big toe, but he’s more scared than injured. He yelled as if he was killed, Ned.”

“Well, if that’s all the excitement, I’m going in and finish the letter I was writing to the folks at home,” remarked Jerry. The other lads entered the cabin with him, and soon all three were busy writing or reading notes, for one mail had come in and another was shortly to leave the mining camp.

It was a bright day, early in November, though the air was as hot as if it was mid-summer, for the valley, which contained the gold diggings, was located in the southern part of Arizona, and the sun fairly burned as it blazed down.

The three boys, who had gone back into their cabin when the excitement following the accidental shooting of the Chinaman had died away, were Jerry Hopkins, Bob Baker and Ned Slade. Bob was the son of Andrew Baker, a wealthy banker; Ned’s father was a well-to-do merchant, and Jerry was the son of a widow, Julia Hopkins. All of the boys lived in Cresville, Mass., a town not far from Boston.

The three boys had been chums through thick and thin for as many years as they could remember. A strange combination of circumstances had brought them to Arizona, where, in company with Jim Nestor, an old western miner, they had discovered a rich gold mine that had been lost for many years.

“There, my letter’s finished,” announced Jerry, about half an hour after the incident of the shooting.

“I had mine done an hour ago,” said Ned.

“Let’s run into town in the auto and mail them. We need some supplies, anyhow,” suggested Bob.

“All right,” assented the others.

The three boys went to the shed where their touring car, a big, red machine in which they had come West, was stored. Ned cranked up, and with a rattle, rumble and bang of the exhaust, the car started off, carrying the three lads to Rockyford, a town about ten miles from the gold diggings.

“I wonder if we’ll ever see Noddy Nixon or Jack Pender again?” asked Bob, when the auto had covered about three miles.

“And you might as well say Bill Berry and Tom Dalsett,” put in Jerry. “They all got away together. I don’t believe in looking on the dark side of things, but I’m afraid we’ll have trouble yet with that quartette.”

“They certainly got away in great shape,” said Bob. “I’ll give Noddy credit for that, if he is a mean bully.”

Noddy Nixon was an old enemy of the three chums. As has been told in the story of “The Motor Boys,” the first book of this series, Jerry, Ned and Bob, when at home in Massachusetts, had motor-cycles and used to go on long trips together, on several of which they met Noddy Nixon, Jack Pender and Bill Berry, a town ne’er-do-well, with no very pleasant results. The boys had been able to secure their motor-cycles through winning prizes at a bicycle race, in which Noddy was beaten. This made him more than ever an enemy of the Motor Boys.

The latter, after having many adventures on their small machines, entered a motor-cycle race. In this they were again successful, defeating some crack riders, and the prize this time was a big, red touring automobile, the same they were now using.

Once they had an auto they decided on a trip across the continent, and their doings on that journey are recorded in the second book of this series, entitled “The Motor Boys Overland.”

It was while out riding in their auto in Cresville one evening that they came across a wounded miner in a hut. He turned out to be Jim Nestor, who knew the secret of a lost mine in Arizona. While sick in the hut, Nestor was robbed of some gold he carried in a belt. Jack Pender was the thief, and got away, although the Motor Boys chased him.

With Nestor as a guide, the boys set out to find the lost mine. On the way they had many adventures with wild cowboys and stampeded cattle, while once the auto caught fire.

They made the acquaintance, on the prairies, of Professor Uriah Snodgrass, a collector of bugs, stones and all sorts of material for college museums, for he was a naturalist. They succeeded in rescuing the professor from a mob of cowboys, who, under the impression that the naturalist had stolen one of their horses, were about to hang him. The professor went with the boys and Nestor to the mine, and was still with them.

The gold claim was not easily won. Noddy Nixon, Pender, Berry and one Pud Stoneham, a gambler, aided by Tom Dalsett, who used to work for Nestor, attacked the Motor Boys and their friends and tried to get the mine away from them.

However, Jerry and his friends won out, the sheriff arrested Stoneham for several crimes committed, and the others fled in Noddy’s auto, which he had stolen from his father, for Noddy had left home because it was discovered that he had robbed the Cresville iron mill of one thousand dollars, which crime Jerry and his two chums had discovered and fastened on the bully.

So it was no small wonder, after all the trouble Noddy and his gang had caused, that Jerry felt he and his friends might hear more of their unpleasant acquaintances. Noddy, Jerry knew, was not one to give up an object easily.

In due time town was reached, the letters were mailed, and the supplies purchased. Then the auto was headed back toward camp. About five miles from the gold diggings, Ned, who sat on the front seat with Bob, who was steering, called out:

“Hark! Don’t you hear some one shouting?”

Bob shut off the power and, in the silence which ensued, the boys heard a faint call.

“Help! Help! Help!”

“It’s over to the left,” said Ned.

“No; it’s to the right, up on top of that hill,” announced Jerry.

They all listened intently, and it was evident that Jerry was correct. The cries could be heard a little more plainly now.

“Help! Hurry up and help!” called the voice. “I’m down in a hole!”

The boys jumped from the auto and ran to the top of the hill. At the summit they found an abandoned mine shaft. Leaning over this they heard groans issuing from it, and more cries for aid.

“Who’s there?” asked Jerry.

“Professor Uriah Snodgrass, A. M., Ph.D., F. R. G. S., B. A. and A. B. H.”

“Our old friend, the professor!” exclaimed Ned. “How did you ever get there?” he called down the shaft.

“Never mind how I got here, my dear young friend,” expostulated the professor, “but please be so kind as to help me out. I came down a ladder, but the wood was rotten, and when I tried to climb out, the rungs broke. Have you a rope?”

“Run back to the machine and get one,” said Jerry to Bob. “We’ll have to pull him up, just as we did the day he fell over the cliff.”

In a few minutes Bob came back with the rope. A noose was made in one end and this was lowered to the professor.

“Put it around your chest, under your arms, and we will haul you up,” said Jerry.

“I can’t!” cried the professor.

“Why not?”

“Can’t use my hands.”

“Are your arms broken?” asked the boy, afraid lest his friend had met with an injury.

“No, my dear young friend, my arms are not broken. I am not hurt at all.”

“Then, why can’t you put the rope under your arms?”

“Because I have a very rare specimen of a big, red lizard in one hand, and a strange kind of a bat in the other. They are both alive, and if I let them go to fix the rope they’ll get away, and they’re worth five hundred dollars each. I’d rather stay here all my life than lose these specimens.”

“How will we ever get him up?” asked Bob.

[CHAPTER II.]
THE PROFESSOR’S STORY.

For a little while it did seem like a hard proposition. The professor could not, or rather would not, aid himself. Once the rope was around him it would be an easy matter for the boys to haul him out of the hole.

“If we could lasso him it would be the proper thing,” said Bob.

“I have it!” exclaimed Ned.

He began pulling up the rope from where it dangled down into the abandoned shaft.

“What are you going to do?” asked Jerry.

“I’ll show you,” replied Ned, adjusting the rope around his chest, under his arms. “Now if you two will lower me into the hole I’ll fasten this cable on the professor and you can haul him up. Then you can yank me out, and it will be killing two birds with one stone.”

“More like hanging two people with one rope,” laughed Bob.

But Ned’s plan was voted a good one. Jerry and Bob lowered him carefully down the shaft, until the slacking of the rope told that he was at the bottom. In a little while they heard a shout:

“Haul away!”

It was quite a pull for the two boys, for, though the professor was a small man, he was no lightweight. Hand over hand the cable was hauled until, at last, the shining bald head of the naturalist was observed emerging from the black hole of the abandoned mine.

“Easy, easy, boys!” he cautioned, as soon as his chin was above the surface. “I’ve got two rare specimens with me, and I don’t want them harmed.”

When Jerry and Bob had pulled Professor Snodgrass up as far as possible, by means of the rope, the naturalist rested his elbows on the edge of the shaft and wiggled the rest of the way out by his own efforts. In one hand was a big lizard, struggling to escape, and in the other was a large bat, flapping its uncanny wings.

“Ah, I have you safe, my beauties!” exclaimed the collector. “You can’t get away from me now!” He placed the reptile and bat in his green specimen-box, which was on the ground a short distance away, his face beaming with pride over his achievement, though in queer contrast to his disordered appearance, for he had fallen in the mud of the mine, his clothes were all dirt, his hat was gone and he looked as ruffled as a wet hen.

“Much obliged to you, boys,” he said, coming over to Bob and Jerry. “I might have stayed there forever if you hadn’t come along. Seems as though I am always getting into trouble. Do you remember the day I fell over the cliff with Broswick and Nestor, and you pulled us up with the auto?”

“I would say we did,” replied Jerry. “But now we must pull Ned up.”

Once more the rope was lowered down the shaft and in a few minutes Ned was hauled up safely.

“It’s almost as deep as our mine shaft,” he said, as he brushed the dirt from his clothes, “but I didn’t see any gold there, for it’s as dark as a pocket. How did you come to go down, professor?”

“I suspected I might get some specimens in such a place,” replied the naturalist, “so I just went down, and I had excellent luck, most excellent!”

“It’s a good thing you think so,” put in Jerry. “Most people would call it bad to get caught at the bottom of a mine shaft.”

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” went on the professor, casting his eyes over the ground in search of any stray specimens of snakes or bugs. “I had my candle with me until I lost it, just after I caught the lizard and bat. I could have come up all right if the ladder hadn’t broken. It was quite a hole, for a fact. It reminds me of another big hole I once heard about.”

“What hole is that?” asked Ned.

“Oh, that’s quite a story, all about mysteries, buried cities and all that.”

“Tell us about it,” suggested Jerry.

“To-night, maybe,” answered the naturalist. “I want to get back to camp now and attend to my specimens.”

The boys and the professor, the latter carrying his box of curiosities, were soon in the auto and speeding back to the gold mine.

That night, sitting around the camp-fire, which blazed cheerfully, the boys asked Professor Snodgrass to tell them the story he had hinted at when they hauled him from the mine shaft.

“Let me listen, too,” said Jim Nestor, filling his pipe and stretching out on the grass.

Then, in the silence of the early night, broken only by the crackle of the flames and the distantly heard hoot of owls or howl of foxes, the naturalist told what he knew of a buried city of ancient Mexico.

“It was some years ago,” he began, “that a friend of mine, a young college professor, was traveling in Mexico. He visited all the big places and then, getting tired of seeing the things that travelers usually see, he struck out into the wilds, accompanied only by an old Mexican guide.

“He traveled for nearly a week, getting farther and farther away from civilization, until one night he found himself on a big level plain, at the extreme end of which there was a curiously shaped mountain.

“He proposed to his guide that they camp for the night and proceed to the mountain the next day. The guide assented, but he acted so queerly that my friend wondered what the matter was. He questioned his companion, but all he could get out of him was that the mountain was considered a sort of unlucky place, and no one went there who could avoid it.

“This made my friend all the more anxious to see what might be there, and he announced his intention of making the journey in the morning. He did so, but he had to go alone, for, during the night, his guide deserted him.”

“And what did he find at the mountain?” asked Bob. “A gold mine?”

“Not exactly,” replied the professor.

“Maybe it was a silver lode,” suggested Nestor. “There’s plenty of silver in Mexico.”

“It wasn’t a silver mine, either,” went on the professor. “All he found was a big hole in the side of the mountain. He went inside and walked for nearly a mile, his only light being a candle. Then he came to a wall of rock. He was about to turn back, when he noticed an opening in the wall. It was high up, but he built a platform of stones up and peered through the opening.”

“What did he see?” asked Jerry.

“The remains of an ancient, buried city,” replied Professor Snodgrass. “The mountain was nothing more than a big mound of earth, with an opening in the top, through which daylight entered. The shaft through the side led to the edge of the city. My friend gazed in on the remains of a place thousands of years old. The buildings were mostly in ruins, but they showed they had once been of great size and beauty. There were wide streets with what had been fountains in them. There was not a vestige of a living creature. It was as if some pestilence had fallen on the place and the people had all left.”

“Did he crawl through the hole in the wall and go into the deserted city?” asked Nestor, with keen interest.

“He wanted to,” answered the naturalist, “but he thought it would be risky, alone as he was. So he made a rough map of as much of the place as he could see, including his route in traveling to the mountain. Then he retraced his steps, intending to organize a searching party of scientists and examine the buried city.”

“Did he do it?” came from Bob, who was listening eagerly.

“No. Unfortunately, he was taken ill with a fever as soon as he got back to civilization, and he died shortly afterward.”

“Too bad,” murmured Jerry. “It would have been a great thing to have given to the world news of such a place in Mexico. It’s all lost now.”

“Not all,” said the professor, in a queer voice.

“Why not? Didn’t you say your friend died?”

“Yes; but before he expired he told me the story and gave me the map.”

“Where is it?” asked Nestor, sitting up and dropping his pipe in his excitement.

“There!” exclaimed the professor, extending a piece of paper, which he had brought forth from his possessions.

Eagerly, they all bent forward to examine the map in the light of the camp-fire. The drawing was crude enough, and showed that the buried city lay to the east of the chain of Sierra Madre Mountains, and about five hundred miles to the north of the City of Mexico.

“There’s the place,” said the professor, pointing with his finger to the buried city. “How I wish I could go there! It has always been my desire to follow the footsteps of my unfortunate friend. Perhaps I might discover the buried city. I could investigate it, make discoveries and write a book about it. That would be the height of my ambition. But I’m afraid I’ll never be able to do it.”

For a few minutes there was silence about the camp-fire, each one thinking of the mysterious city that was not so very many miles from them.

Suddenly Ned jumped to his feet and gave a yell.

“Whoop!” he cried. “I have it! It will be the very thing!”

[CHAPTER III.]
NEWS OF NODDY NIXON.

“What’s the matter? Bit by a kissin’ bug?” asked Nestor, as Ned was capering about.

“Nope! I’m going to find that buried city,” replied Ned.

“He’s loony!” exclaimed the miner. “He’s been sleepin’ in the moonlight. That’s a bad thing to do, Ned.”

“I’m not crazy,” spoke the boy. “I have a plan. If you don’t want to listen to it, all right,” and he started for the cabin.

“What is it, tell us, will you?” came from the professor, who was in earnest about everything.

“I just thought we might make a trip to Mexico in the automobile, and hunt for that lost city,” said Ned. “We could easily make the trip. It would be fun, even if we didn’t find the place, and the gold mine is now in good shape, so that we could leave, isn’t it, Jim?”

“Oh, I can run the mine, all right,” spoke Nestor. “If you boys want to go traipsin’ off to Mexico, why, go ahead, as far as I’m concerned. Better ask your folks first, though. I reckon you an’ the professor could make the trip, easy enough, but I won’t gamble on your finding the buried city, for I’ve heard such stories before, an’ they don’t very often come true.”

“Dearly as I would like to make the trip in the automobile, and sure as I feel that we could do it, I think we had better sleep on the plan,” said Professor Snodgrass. “If you are of the same mind in the morning we will consider it further.”

“I’d like to go, first rate,” came from Jerry.

“Same here,” put in Bob.

That night each of the boys dreamed of walking about in some ancient towns, where the buildings were of gold and silver, set with diamonds, and where the tramp of soldiers’ feet resounded on the paved courtyards of the palaces of the Montezumas.

“Waal,” began Nestor, who was up early, making the coffee, when the boys turned out of their bunks, “air ye goin’ to start for Mexico to-day, or wait till to-morrow?”

“Don’t you think we could make the trip?” asked Jerry, seriously.

“Oh, you can make it, all right, but you’ll have troubles. In the first place, Mexico ain’t the United States, an’ there’s a queer lot of people, mostly bad, down there. You’ll have to be on the watch all the while, but if you’re careful I guess you’ll git along. But come on, now, help git breakfust.”

Through the meal, though the boys talked little, it was evident they were thinking of nothing but the trip to Mexico.

“I’m going to write home now and find if I can go,” said Ned.

Jerry and Bob said they would do the same, and soon three letters were ready to be sent.

After their usual round of duties at the mine, which consisted in making out reports, dealing out supplies, and checking up the loads of ore, the boys went to town in the auto to mail their letters. It was a pleasant day for the trip, and they made good time.

“It will be just fine if we can go,” said Bob. “Think of it, we may find the buried city and discover the stores of gold hidden by the inhabitants.”

“I guess all the gold the Mexicans ever had was gobbled up by the Spaniards,” put in Jerry.

“But we may find a store of curios, relics and other things worth more than gold,” added Ned. “If we take the professor with us that’s what he would care about more than money. I do hope we can go.”

“It’s going to be harder to find than the lost gold mine was,” said Jerry. “That map the professor has isn’t much to go by.”

“Oh, it will be fun hunting for the place,” went on Bob. “We may find the city before we know it.”

In due time the boys reached town and mailed their letters. There was some excitement in the village over a robbery that had occurred, and the sheriff was organizing a posse to go in search of a band of horse thieves.

“Don’t you want to go ’long?” asked the official of the boys, whom he knew from having aided them in the battle at the mine against Noddy Nixon and his friends some time before. “Come along in the choo-choo wagon. I’ll swear you in as special deputies.”

“No, thanks, just the same,” Jerry said. “We are pretty busy up at the diggings and can’t spare the time.”

“Like to have you,” went on the sheriff, genially. “You could make good time in the gasolene gig after those hoss thieves.”

But the boys declined. They had been through enough excitement in securing the gold mine to last them for a while.

“We must stop at the store and get some bacon,” said Ned. “Nestor told me as we were coming away. There’s none at the camp.”

Bidding the sheriff good-by, and waiting until he had ridden off at the head of his forces, the boys turned their auto toward the general store, located on the main street of Rockyford.

“Howdy, lads!” exclaimed the proprietor, as he came to the door to greet them. “What is it to-day, gasolene or cylinder oil?”

“Bacon,” replied Jerry.

“Got some prime,” the merchant said. “Best that ever come off a pig. How much do you want?”

“Twenty pounds will do this time,” answered Jerry. “We may not be here long, and we don’t want to stock up too heavily.”

“You ain’t thinkin’ of goin’ back East, are ye?” exclaimed the storekeeper.

“More likely to go South,” put in Ned. “We were thinking of Mexico.”

“You don’t say so!” cried the vendor of bacon and other sundries. “Got another gold mine in sight down there?”

“No; but——” and then Ned subsided, at a warning punch in the side from Jerry, who was not anxious to have the half-formed plans made public.

“You was sayin’——” began the storekeeper, as if desirous of hearing more.

“Oh, we may take a little vacation trip down into Mexico,” said Jerry, in a careless tone. “We’ve been working pretty hard and we need a rest. But nothing has been decided yet.”

“Mexico must be quite a nice place,” went on the merchant.

“What makes you think so?” asked Bob.

“I heard of another automobilin’ party that went there not long ago.”

“Who was it?” spoke Jerry.

“Some chap named Dixon or Pixon or Sixon, I forget exactly what it was.”

“Was it Nixon?” asked Jerry.

“That’s it! Noddy Nixon, I remember now. He had a chap with him named Perry or Ferry or Kerry or——”

“Bill Berry, maybe,” suggested Bob.

“That was it! Berry. Queer what a poor memory I have for names. And there was another with him. Let’s see, I have it; no, that wasn’t it. Oh, yes, Hensett!”

“You mean Dalsett,” put in Ned.

“That’s it! Dalsett! And there was another named Jack Pender. There, I bet I’ve got that right.”

“You have,” said Jerry. “You say they went to Mexico?”

“You see, it was this way,” the storekeeper went on. “It was about three weeks ago. They come up in a big automobile, like yours, an’ bought a lot of stuff. I kind of hinted to find out where they was headed for, an’ all the satisfaction I got was that that there Nixon feller says as how he guessed Mexico would be the best place for them, as the United States Government hadn’t no control down there. Then one of the others says Mexico would suit him. So I guess they went. Now, is there anything else I can let you have?”

“Thanks, this will be all,” replied Jerry, paying for the bacon.

The boys waited until they were some distance on the road before they spoke about the news the storekeeper had told them.

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Noddy and his gang had gone to Mexico,” said Ned. “That’s the safest place for them, after what they did.”

“I wish they weren’t there, if we are to take a trip in that country,” put in Bob.

“It’s a big place, I guess they won’t bother us,” came from Jerry.

But he was soon to find that Mexico was not big enough to keep Noddy and his crowd from making much trouble and no little danger for him and his friends.

They arrived at camp early in the afternoon and told Nestor the news they had heard. He did not attach much importance to it, as he was busy over an order for new mining machinery.

There was plenty for the boys to do about camp, and soon they were so occupied that they almost forgot there was such a place as Mexico.

[CHAPTER IV.]
OVER THE RIO GRANDE.

A week later, during which there had been busy days at the mining camp, the boys received answers to their letters. They came in the shape of telegrams, for the lads had asked their parents to wire instead of waiting to write. Each one received permission to make the trip into the land of the Montezumas.

“Hurrah!” yelled Bob, making an ineffectual attempt to turn a somersault, and coming down all in a heap.

“What’s the matter?” asked Nestor, coming out of the cabin. “Wasp sting ye?”

“We can go to Mexico!” cried Ned, waving the telegram.

“Same thing,” replied the miner. “Ye’ll git bit by sand fleas, tarantulas, scorpions, centipedes, horse-flies an’ rattlesnakes, down there. Better stay here.”

“Is it as bad as that?” asked Bob.

“If it is I’ll get the finest collection of bugs the college ever saw,” put in Professor Snodgrass.

“Well, it may not be quite as bad, but it’s bad enough,” qualified Nestor. “But don’t let me discourage you. Go ahead, this is a free country.”

So it was arranged. The boys decided they would start in three days, taking the professor with them.

“And we’ll find that buried city if it’s there,” put in Ned.

The next few days were busy ones. At Nestor’s suggestion each one of the boys had a stout money-belt made, in which they could carry their cash strapped about their waists. They were going into a wild country, the miner told them, where the rights of people were sometimes disregarded.

Then the auto was given a thorough overhauling, new tires were put on the rear wheels, and a good supply of ammunition was packed up. In addition, many supplies were loaded into the machine, and Professor Snodgrass got an enlarged box made for his specimens, as well as two new butterfly nets.

The boys invested in stout shoes and leggins, for they felt they might have to make some explorations in a wild country. A good camp cooking outfit was taken along, and many articles that Nestor said would be of service during the trip.

“Your best way to go,” said the miner, “will be to scoot along back into New Mexico for a ways, then take over into Texas, and strike the Rio Grande below where the Conchas River flows into it. This will save you a lot of mountain climbing an’ give you a better place to cross the Rio Grande. At a place about ten miles below the Conchas there is a fine flat-boat ferriage. You can take the machine over on that.”

The boys promised to follow this route. Final preparations were made, letters were written home, the auto was gone over for the tenth time by Jerry, and having received five hundred dollars each from Nestor, as their share in the mine receipts up to the time they left, they started off with a tooting of the auto horn.

“That’s more money than I ever had at one time before,” said Bob, patting his money-belt as he settled himself comfortably down in the rear seat of the car, beside Professor Snodgrass.

“Money is no good,” said the naturalist.

“No good?”

“No; I’d rather catch a pink and blue striped sand flea, which is the rarest kind that exists, than have all the money in the world. If I can get one of them or even a purple muskrat, and find the buried city, that will be all I want on this earth.”

“I certainly hope we find the buried city,” spoke up Ned, who was listening to the conversation, “but I wouldn’t care much for a purple muskrat.”

“Well, every one to his taste,” said the professor. “We may find both.”

The journey, which was to prove a long one, full of surprises and dangers, was now fairly begun. The auto hummed along the road, making fast time.

That night the adventurers spent in a little town in New Mexico. Their arrival created no little excitement, as it was the first time an auto had been in that section. Such a crowd of miners and cowboys surrounded the machine that Jerry, who was steering, had to shut off the power in a hurry to avoid running one man down.

“I thought maybe ye could jump th’ critter over me jest like they do circus hosses,” explained the one who had nearly been hit by the car. Jerry laughingly disclaimed any such powers of the machine.

Two days later found them in Texas, and, recalling Nestor’s directions about crossing the Rio Grande, they kept on down the banks of that mighty river until they passed the junction where the Conchas flows in.

So far the trip had been without accident. The machine ran well and there was no trouble with the mechanism or the tires. Just at dusk, one night, they came to a small settlement on the Rio Grande. They rode through the town until they came to a sort of house-boat on the edge of the stream. A sign over the entrance bore the words:

Ferry Here.

“This is the place we’re looking for, I guess,” said Jerry. He drove the machine up to the entrance and brought it to a stop. A dark-featured man, with a big scar down one side of his face, slouched to the door.

“Well?” he growled.

“We’d like to be ferried over to the other side,” spoke Jerry.

“Come to-morrow,” snarled the man. “We don’t work after five o’clock.”

“But we’d like very much to get over to-night,” went on Jerry. “And if it’s any extra trouble we’d be willing to pay for it.”

“That’s the way with you rich chaps that rides around in them horseless wagons,” went on the ferrymaster. “Ye think a man has got to be at yer beck an’ call all the while. I’ll take ye over, but it’ll cost ye ten dollars.”

“We’ll pay it,” said Jerry, for he observed a crowd of rough men gathering, whose looks he did not like, and he thought he and his friends would be better off on the other side of the stream, on Mexican territory.

“Must be in a bunch of hurry,” growled the man. “Ain’t tryin’ to git away from th’ law, be ye?”

“Not that we know of,” laughed Jerry.

“Looks mighty suspicious,” snarled the man. “But, come on. Run yer shebang down on the boat, an’ go careful or you’ll go through the bottom. The craft ain’t built to carry locomotives.”

Jerry steered the car down a slight incline onto a big flat boat, where it was blocked by chunks of wood so that it could not roll forward or backward.

By this time the ferrymaster and his crew had come down to the craft. They were all rather unpleasant-looking men, with bold, hard faces, and it was evident that each one of the five, who made up the force that rowed the boat across the stream, was heavily armed. They wore bowie-knives and carried two revolvers apiece.

But the sight of armed men was no new one to the boys since their experience in the mining camp, and they had come to know that the chap who made the biggest display of an arsenal was usually the one who was the biggest coward, seldom having use for a gun or a knife.

“All ready?” growled the ferryman.

“All ready,” called Jerry. He and the other boys, with the professor, had alighted from the auto and stood beside it on the flat boat.

Pulling on the long sweeps, the men sent the boat out into the stream, which, at this point, was about a mile wide. Once beyond the shore the force of the current made itself felt, and it was no easy matter to keep the boat headed right.

Every now and then the ferryman would cast anxious looks at the sky, and several times he urged the men to row faster.

“Do you think it is going to storm, my dear friend?” asked the professor, in a kindly and gentle voice.

“Think it, ye little bald-headed runt! I know it is!” exploded the man. “And if it ketches us out here there’s goin’ to be trouble.”