And what, in the end, is to be the fate of poor little Nicolas?
Don Luis Montez is not the sort of man to forgive him his fidelity to us." "And where's Nicolas, all this time ?" suddenly demanded Harry, glancing at his watch.

"Why, the fellow hasn't been here for three hours! Where can he be ?" "_Quien sabe_ ?" responded Reade, using the common Spanish question, given with a shrug, which means, "Who knows! Who can guess ?" "Can Nicolas have fallen into any harm ?" asked Hazelton, a new note of alarm in his voice.

"The poor, faithful little fellow! It gives me a shiver to think of his suffering an injury just because he serves us so truly." "I shall be interested in seeing him get back," Tom nodded thoughtfully.
"And I'm beginning to have a creepy feeling that he won't come back!" cried Harry.

"He may at this moment be past human aid, Tom, and that may be but the prelude to our own craftily-planned destruction." Tom Reade sat up, leaning on one elbow, as he regarded his chum with an odd smile.
"Harry," Tom uttered, dryly, "we certainly have no excuse for being blue when we have such rosy thoughts to cheer us up!" "Hang Mexico!" grunted Hazelton..