hanging about, hoping for employment at the last minute, and one was quickly chosen.
"It's lucky you saw that gun, Ned," remarked Tom, when they were actually under way again.
"Yes, I saw the sun shining on it as his coat flapped up. What was his game, do you suppose?"
"Oh, he might be what they call a 'bad half-breed' down here. I guess maybe he thought he could lord it over the other drivers when we got out in the jungle, and maybe take some of their wages away from them, or have things easier for himself."
"Bless my wishbone!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "You don't think he meant to use it on us, Tom?"
"Why no? What makes you ask that?"
"Oh, I'm just nervous, I guess," replied the odd man.
But if Mr. Damon could have seen that same half-breed a little later, as he slipped into a Rosario resort, with the yellow stain washed from his face, the nervousness of the eccentric gentleman would have increased. For the man who had been detected with the revolver muttered to himself:
"Caught! Well, I'll fool 'em next time all right! I thought I could get away with the pack train, and then it would have been easy to turn
