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“Why, because it says here he is a credit to the school, and he isn’t that—not now.” His captors began talking about the situation at the Mexican border and Bob drank in every word they said. It was just now that he began to realize what depth of feeling there was about the way the situation was being handled and to what lengths the ranchers and cattlemen would go to force the United States to make war on the other country. Wesley and Harper undoubtedly were “bad men,” but Bob was convinced by their talk that they had started on this particular piece of villainy for reasons which they thought were right. Probably when the thing began, they never planned anything worse than a strike among the Mexicans in order to delay for a year or two longer the flooding of the rangeland. Then had come the chance to induce the Mexicans to commit worse crimes in order to strengthen the feeling against Mexico and thus bring on war. Holman, the boss of these men and Bob’s host, had said that he wanted to move his stock to his ranch in Mexico when the dam was finished—but it would be foolish to do that while the country was still so unsettled. Presumably, there were a lot of men in the same fix as Holman, and these, naturally, wanted the United States to step in and make the unsettled country peaceful. “I was on board the coal steamer—that’s where I was. His name is Hobborn, Mother, and just listen! he set a big jar of preserves before me—I think it was raspberries—and I ate a lot, and then he gave me this whistle. Now I’ll blow it.” An ear-splitting blast followed..

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“Good work, Bob, my boy! It’s great to see you! Have a good trip? You’ve grown since I saw you—how’re the other fellows? How’s Big Chris?” Bob was wise enough to wait until Jerry felt like going on. He knew that the other boy must be very much upset, quite shocked out of his customary reserve by the happenings of the day, to say as much as he had. His patience was at length rewarded. At first glance there seemed nothing amiss. To Bob’s untrained eye, the shadows that lay heavily in the dark of the night were only scrub pine and underbrush. But as he looked these shadows took form and substance. They were men, sitting or lying relaxed, in attitudes of waiting. A faint nicker and trampling of hoofs told that horses were hobbled in the vicinity. Another wave came—a stronger one—and dashed even higher. He would be safer, perhaps, if he lay on his stomach and stuck his arms through the big ring that they fastened the ship’s ropes to..