When the rocket flared across the sky Jimmie rushed into the tent where the drummer was sleeping and shook him savagely.
"Get up an' blow out the gas!" he cried, as the boy gasped and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Get up!""This must be the Fourth of July," the drummer grunted, as another rocket, this time a blue one, flashed across the zenith.
"What's doing?"
"They're bombardin' us with red an' blue fire," whispered Jimmie!
"Get up. I'm goin' out to see what's comin' off here. Want to go?""Of course I want to go," replied Peter. "I didn't come down here to sleep my head off, did I? Shall I take my drum?"Jimmie sat down on the ground and chuckled.
"You an' your drum!" he exclaimed, being careful to speak in a tone which would not reach the ears of the guards.
"That is a fine drum," urged Peter, the drummer.
"What do you want to lug it around for, then?" demanded Jimmie. "They won't let you beat on it.""That's what I came down here for--to drum," was the impatient reply. "Think I came down here to get my hair cut?""You may get it cut off under your chin before you get back to the Great White Way," Jimmie said. "This is no joke.""I haven't had a chance to drum since I got here," complained the boy. "The time you heard me is the only one. That's rotten!""Why did they let you drum then?" asked Jimmie.
"I just rolled it out before they could stop me.""I was wondering," Jimmie said, with a sly smile, "if these secret service men went sleuthing with a brass band ahead of them.""Indeed they don't!" declared the drummer, in defense of his friends. "They found me broke and lost and picked me up, which was mighty good of them. Say," he added, with a slight scowl on his face, "this is a fine, large country to get lost in.""I should think so," agreed Jimmie. "I wasn't lost, but Ihadn't any more money than --than--than a--a--a rabbit when I found Fremont and Ned at El Paso. And my clothes looked like they'd come out of a ragbag. Wore 'em out reclinin' in my side-door Pullman.""You're fixed up all right now for clothes," observed the drummer, looking the boy's well-dressed, muscular figure over with approving eyes.
"George Fremont bought these," said Jimmie, looking down at his suit. "All right, ain't it? I'm goin' to pay him back when I get to working again. I don't want anybody to give me anything.""Lieutenant Gordon's son is a patrol leader at Washington,"the drummer said, after a thoughtful pause, "and I suppose that's the reason he helped me out. I reckon a Boy Scout can find friends in any part of the world, if he is deserving of them. I found a Mexican boy, over here in the hills, who belongs to a patrol he calls the Owl. We may meet him if we remain about here very long.""A Boy Scout who is on the square won't have trouble in getting through," Jimmie observed, "but we've got to be moving. I imagine the guards want us to remain here, so we'll have to sneak off if we leave camp. The guards seem to think we couldn't find our way back. We'll show 'em."Without further words the boys crept out of the tent, waited until the guards were at the other end of the little valley, and dashed away into a shadowy place behind a rock, which they had no difficulty in leaving, presently, without being seen.
Once away from the tents, they turned toward the high peak from which the rockets had been sent up. The way was steep and rough, and it was hard climbing, and more than once they stopped to rest. It was, as has been said, a brilliant moonlit night, and, from the elevation where the boys were, the valley below lay like a silver-land of promise.
"It is a beautiful country," the drummer said, as they paused to rest on a small shelf in the rock. "It is a rich and fertile country, too, one of the most desirable in the world, but I'm afraid the people don't get much out of life here.""They are selfish and cruel," Jimmie said, "and no nation of that stripe ever prospered. What they need here is less strong drink and more school-houses--more real ******* and less mere show of republican government. We read up on Mexico in the Wolf Patrol when this trouble broke out. We always do that--keep track of what's going on in the world, I mean.""I know something about the country, too," the drummer said, looking in admiration down on the beautiful valley below, bathed in the sweet moonlight, "and sometimes I wonder that the people are as decent as they are. Although they have never had much of a show, and although they come, many of them, of rude ancestors, the people of Mexico compare favorably with those of other countries."The boys climbed on again, mounting higher and higher, their aim being to gain the very top of the ridge. After half an hour's hard work they stopped and sat down, to look over the valley again.
"There are no written records of the origin of these people," the drummer said, almost as if thinking aloud. "No one knows the origin of the people. Cortez found them here when he arrived with his brutal soldiers. All that is known is that the inhabitants came from the North.""Twice the country was populated from the North," Jimmie put in, the readings at the Wolf Patrol club coming back to his mind.
