the Mexicans. It's you Americans. If you stay here, I'll have to protect
you. And I can't protect you, anyway. We'll all lose our lives and
they'll destroy the well in the bargain. And if they fire it, it means
the entire Ebaño oil field. The strata's too broken. We're flowing
twenty thousand barrels now, and we can't pinch down any further. As it
is, the oil's coming up outside the pipe. And we can't have a fight.
We've got to keep the oil moving."

The men nodded. It was cold-blooded logic; but there was no fault to it.

The harassed expression eased on the superintendent's face, and he
almost beamed on them for agreeing with him.

"You've got a good machine there," he continued. "The ferry's at the
bank at Panuco, and once you're across, the rebels aren't so thick on
the north shore. Why, you can beat the steamboat back to Tampico by
hours. And it hasn't rained for days. The road won't be at all bad."

* * * * *

"Which is all very good," Davies observed to Wemple as they approached
Panuco, "except for the fact that the road on the other side was never
built for automobiles, much less for a long-bodied one like this. I wish
it were the Four instead of the Six."

"And it would bother you with a Four to negotiate that hill at Aliso
where the road switchbacks above the river."

"And we're going to do it with a Six or lose a perfectly good Six in
trying," Beth Drexel laughed to them.