"The stuff all goes to a thief in the end, anyway, for we know that we can't carry our trunks with us." But that didn't suit.

Hazelton, who still felt as though he owned his own trunk.

So he started back, soft-footed.

Presently they came in sight of a human being seated on Reade's trunk.
"Nicolas!" breathed Tom.
"_Si, senor_," (yes, sir) returned the servant.
"But what are you doing here ?" "I am your servant," replied the Mexican, calmly.
"Wrong; you're Don Luis's servant." "But he ordered me to wait on you both unceasingly, senor." "We have left Don Luis's house, for good," Tom continued, walking over to where the barefooted one sat.
"That may be true, senor; it is true, since you say it, but my orders have not been changed.

Until Don Luis tells me differently I shall go on serving you." "Did Don Luis send you after us, Nicolas ?" Reade demanded, wonderingly.
"No, senor." "Did any one at the house send you ?" "No, senor.