"It is chocolate." As Tom and Harry both detested this beverage, they were forced to feign their enthusiasm.
"Now, I feel as though we ought to do some walking," Tom declared, rising and stretching.
"Walking ?" queried Nicolas.

"Where ?" "Over the hills to the nearest telegraph station.

There is one within twenty miles, is there not ?" "There is, _caballero_," Nicolas assented, gravely, "but it will be impossible for us to reach it." "Impossible?
Why ?" Reade demanded.
"On my way back I kept my eyes open," the Mexican explained.
"As a result I discovered who is in these hills about us." "Who, then ?" Harry asked.
"Pedro Gato," Nicolas affirmed solemnly.
"Who ?" said Tom.

"Oh, Gato?
Only he ?" "Only he and some of his worthless, criminal companions," the servant went on, solemnly.

"Senor Reade, at no greater distance than this from Don Luis you may be safe from Gato.