"Give him his gun, and get another driver, San Pedro," directed our
hero, and with another shrug of his shoulders the man accepted the
revolver, and walked slowly off. Another driver was not hard to
engage, as several had been 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: