Ned in a low voice. "Maybe you'd better give in to them"
"Not much!" exclaimed the young inventor. "If I do they'll want to sleep all the while, and we'll never get any where. We're going to keep on. They won't kick after the first few times, and if they try any funny business—well, we're well armed and they aren't," and he looked at his own rifle, and Ned's. Mr. Damon also carried one, and Eradicate had a large revolver which he said he preferred to a gun. Each of our white friends also carried an automatic pistol and plenty of ammunition.
"I took care not to let the Mexicans have any guns," Tom went on. "It isn't safe."
"I'll wager that they've got knives and revolvers tucked away somewhere in their clothes," spoke Ned.
"Bless my tackhammer!" cried Mr. Damon. "Why do you say such blood-curdling things, Ned? You make me shiver!"
In a little while they took up the trail again, the ox carts moving along toward the comparatively cool woods. Our friends had a cart to themselves, one fitted with padded seats, which somewhat made up for the absence of springs, and Eradicate was their driver. Tom had made this arrangement so they might talk among them-
