The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Young Engineers in Mexico, by H. Irving Hancock

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Title: The Young Engineers in Mexico

Author: H. Irving Hancock

Release Date: June 29, 2004 [eBook #12778]

Language: English

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN MEXICO***

E-text prepared by Jim Ludwig

THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN MEXICO

or, Fighting the Mine Swindlers

by

H. IRVING HANCOCK

CONTENTS

CHAPTERS
    I. The Land of Golden Eggs
   II. The Wolf Who Showed His Teeth
  III. Gato Strikes the Up Trail
   IV. Tom Does Some Sampling
    V. The Mine That Did and Didn't
   VI. Watching the Midnight Lights
  VII. Don Luis's Engineering Problem
 VIII. Dangling the Golden Bait
   IX. Don Luis Shows His Claws
    X. The Spirit of a True Engineer
   XI. A Piece of Lead in the Air
  XII. Nicolas Does an Errand
 XIII. Pining for the Good Old U.S.A.
  XIV. Next to the Telegraph Key
   XV. The Job of Being an Hidalgo
  XVI. Two Victims of Rosy Thoughts
 XVII. The Stranger in the Tent
XVIII. Craft—Or Surrender?
  XIX. The Hidalgo Plans Gratitude
   XX. Two Real Signatures
  XXI. The Final Touch of Tragedy
 XXII. Mr. Haynes Asks a Few Questions
XXIII. The Engineer Turns
 XXIV. Conclusion

CHAPTER I

THE LAND OF GOLDEN EGGS

Luis Montez, mine owner, stood on the broad veranda in front of his handsome home, looking out over the country sweeping away to the eastward.

"Gentlemen, you are in a land of golden promise," began Senor
Montez, with a smile and a bow. "I should call it more than promise.
Why not? My beloved country, Mexico, has been shipping gold
to the world ever since the days of Montezuma."

"Yes; in a mineral sense Mexico has truly a golden history," nodded
Tom Reade, one of the engineers to whom Montez was speaking.

"And a golden history in every sense," added Senor Montez, with a quick rush of patriotism. "Mexico is the finest country on earth. And, though we are neither as numerous in population, or as progressive as your own great country, still Mexico has greater possibilities than the United States."

Tom was too polite to argue that point. And Harry Hazelton, whom a seventy-mile ride in an automobile over dusty roads, that day, had rendered very drowsy, didn't consider an argument worth while.

"Mexico has almost incredible natural wealth," Montez went on, his voice soft and purring, his eyes glowing with something that might have passed for pride. "Yet, through all the centuries that white men have been here, I am confident that not one per cent. of the country's natural resources has yet been taken from the ground. Enough wealth lies at man's beck and call to change the balance of power between the nations of the world. I have been in your great city, New York. It is a place of tremendous wealth. Yet, within ten years, gold enough can be taken from the ground within a radius of twenty miles of here to buy the whole great city of New York at any sane valuation."

"That purchase would require billions of dollars," broke in the practical Hazelton.

"But the wealth is here," insisted Senor Montez, still smiling. "Truly, caballeros, as I have told you, this is the land of golden—"

Again the Mexican paused, eloquently.

"The land of golden eggs?" suggested Harry.

For an instant there was a flash in the Mexican's eyes. Then the friendly smile reappeared.

"Of course, you jest, senor," he replied, pleasantly.

"Not at all, Senor Montez," Hazelton assured him. "When gold is so plentiful that it can be picked up everywhere, there must be a goose at hand that lays golden eggs. Eggs are among the most common things that we have. When gold nuggets are as large and as abundant as eggs then we may properly call them golden eggs."

Senor Montez, flipped away the cigar that he had finished, and reached for another. This he carefully cut at the end, lighting it with graceful, elegant deliberation. The Mexican was a distinguished-looking man above medium height. A little past forty years of age, he possessed all the agility of a boy of twenty. Frequently his sudden, agile movements indicated the possession of unusual strength. Dark, like most of his countrymen, constant exposure to the tropical sun had made his face almost the color of mahogany. His carriage was erect, every movement instinctive with grace. Clad in a white linen suit, with white shoes, he wore on his head a Panama hat of fine texture and weave.

The house of which the broad veranda was a part, was a low, two-story affair in stone, painted white. Through the middle of the house extended the drive-way leading into a large court in which a fountain played. Around the upper story of the house a balcony encircled the court and around the windows there were also small balconies.

Many servants, most of them male, ministered to the wants of those in the house. There were gardeners, hostlers, drivers, chauffeurs and other employs, making a veritable colony of help that was housed in small, low white houses well to the rear.

Some thirty acres of grounds had been rendered beautiful by the work of engineers, architects and gardeners. Nature, on this estate, had been forced, for the natural soil was stony and sterile, in keeping with the mountains and the shallow valleys in this part of the little and seldom-heard-of state of Bonista.

To the eastward lay, at a distance of some two miles, one of the sources of Senor Montez's wealth El Sombrero Mine, producing some silver and much more gold. At least so the owner claimed.

It was Senor Luis Montez himself who had gone to the nearest railway station, seventy miles distant, and there had made himself known, that forenoon, to the two young engineers from the United States.

Tom and Harry had come to El Sombrero at the invitation of Montez. After many careful inquiries as to their reputation and standing in their home country, Montez had engaged the young men as engineers to help him develop his great mine. Nor had he hesitated to pay the terms they had named—one thousand dollars, gold, per month, for each, and all expenses paid.

Over mountain trails, through the day, much of the way had of necessity been made slowly. Wherever the dusty, irregular roads had permitted greater speed, the swarthy Mexican who had served Senor Montez as chauffeur on the trip had opened wide on the speed. At the end of their long automobile ride Tom and Harry fairly ached from the jolting they had received.

"There are other beautiful features of this gr-r-rand country of mine," the Mexican mine owner continued, lighting his second cigar. "I am a noble, you know, Senor Tomaso. In my veins flows the noble blood of the hidalgos of good old Spain. My ancestors came here two