"Stop that line of talk, fellow," commanded Tom quietly. "When
you address me, be good enough to say either 'senor' or 'sir.'
I am not usually as disagreeable as this in dealing with my fellow
men, but you have begun wrong with us, Gato, and the first thing
you'll have to learn to do will be to treat us with proper courtesy."

From the shaft entrance showed the faces of four grinning, wondering
Mexicans of the usual type. The talk had proceeded in Spanish, and
they had been able to follow it.

As for the mine manager, his bronzed face was distorted with rage.
The veins near his forehead were swelling. With a sudden roar,
Pedro Gato sprang forward, aiming a blow with his open right hand
at Reade's face.

Bump! That blow failed to land. It was Gato, instead, who landed.
He went down on his back, striking the ground with jarring force.

"What did I say?" whispered Dr. Tisco.

"Wait!" responded Don Luis, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Well-nigh frothing at the mouth, Pedro Gato leaped to his feet.
All was red now before his eyes. He rushed forward bellowing
like a bull, intent on crushing the young American who had dared
to treat him thus.

Tom's left fist drove into the fellow's unguarded face. His right
followed, and Gato, big as he was, staggered back. Tom's right