S., etc., after his name, all indicating some college honor conferred upon him, never seemed to tire. He was making a collection for his own college, as well as gathering data for four large books, which, some day, he intended to issue.

“I’d rather get over on our land if we can,” said Ned, and he seemed to voice the sentiments of the others.

So it was decided, somewhat against the professor’s wish, to run the automobile on the big flat-bottomed scow, which served as a ferry, and proceed across the stream.

Quite a crowd of villagers came out to see the auto as it chug-chugged up to the ferry landing, and not a few of the children and dogs were in danger of being run over until Ned, who was steering, cut out the muffler, and the explosions of the gasolene, unconfined by any pipes, made so much noise that all except the grown men were frightened away.

There was no one at the ferry house, and after diligent inquiries it was learned that the captain and crew of the boat had gone off to a dance about five miles away.

“I guess we’ll have to stay on this side after all,” remarked the professor. “I think—”

What he thought he did not say, for just then he happened to catch sight of something on the shoulder of one of the Mexicans, who had gathered in a fringe about the machine.

“Stand still, my dear man!” called the professor, as with cat-like tread he crept toward the native.

“Diabalo! Santa Maria! Carramba!” muttered the man, thinking, evidently, that the old scientist was out of his wits.

“Don’t move! Please don’t move!” pleaded Mr. Snodgrass, forgetting in his excitement that his hearer could not understand his language. “There is a beautiful specimen of a Mexican katy-did on your coat. If I get it I will have a specimen worth at least thirty dollars!”

He made a sudden motion. The Mexican mistook the import of it, and, seemingly thinking he was about to be assaulted, raised his hand in self defense, and aimed a blow at the professor.

It was only a glancing one, but it knocked the scientist down, and he fell into the road.

“There, the katy-did got away after all,” Mr. Snodgrass exclaimed, not seeming to mind his personal mishap in the least.

This time the professor spoke in Spanish. The Mexican understood, and was profuse in his apologies. He conversed rapidly with his companions, and, all at once there was a wild scramble after katy-dids. So successful was the hunt that the professor was fairly burdened with the insects. He took as many as he needed, and thanked his newly found friends for their efforts.

Matters quieted down after a bit. Darkness fell rapidly and, the Mexican on whom the professor had seen the katy-did invited the travelers to dine with him.

He proved to be one of the principal men of the village, and his house, though not large, was well fitted up. The boys and the professor enjoyed the best meal they had eaten since leaving the City of Mexico.

“Do me the honor to spend the night here,” said the Mexican, after the meal.

“Thank you, if it will not disturb your household arrangements, we will,” replied the professor. “We must make an early start, however, and cross the river the first thing in the morning.”

“It will be impossible,” replied Senor Gerardo, their host.

“Why so?”

“Because to-morrow starts the Feast of San Juarez, which lasts for three days, and not a soul in town, including the ferry-master, will work in that time.”

“What are we to do?” asked Mr. Snodgrass.

“If you do not cross to-night you will not be able to make the passage until the end of the week,” was the answer.

“Then let’s start to-night,” spoke Jerry. “We went over the Rio Grande after dark once before.”

“Yes, and a pretty mess we made of it,” said Ned, referring to the collision they had with the house-boat, as told of in “The Motor Boys in Mexico.”

“But I thought they said the ferry-master was away to a dance,” put in Bob.

“He is, Senor,” replied their host, who managed to understand the boy’s poor Spanish. “However, if he knew the Americanos wanted him, and would go for him in their big marvelous—fire-spitting wagon, and—er—that is if they offered him a small sum, he might be prevailed upon to leave the dance.”

“Let’s try it, at all events,” suggested Jerry. “I’m anxious to get over the line and into the United States. A stay of several days may mean one of a week. When these Mexicans get feasting they don’t know when to stop.”

He spoke in English, so as not to offend their kind friend.

It was arranged that Jerry and Senor Gerardo should go in the auto for the ferry-master, and summon him to the river with his men, who could come on their fast ponies.

This was done, and, though the master of the boat demurred at leaving the pleasures of the dance, he consented when Jerry casually showed a gold-piece. He and his men were soon mounted and galloped along, Jerry running the auto slowly to keep pace with them. The five miles were quickly covered and, while half the population of the village came out to see the strange machine ferried over, the boys and the professor bade farewell to the country where they had gone through so many strange adventures.

It was nearly ten o’clock when the big flat-bottomed boat grounded on the opposite shore of the Rio Grande.

“Hurrah for the United States!” exclaimed Bob. “Now I can get a decent meal without having to swallow red peppers, onions and chocolate!”

“There goes Chunky again,” laughingly complained Ned. “No sooner does he land than he wants to feed his stomach. I believe if he had been with Christopher Columbus the first thing he would have inquired about on landing at San Salvador would be what the Indians had good to eat.”

“Oh you’re as bad as I am, every bit!” said Bob.

Eagle’s Pass, where the travelers landed, was a typical Texas town, with what passed for a hotel, a store and a few houses where the small population lived. It was on the edge of the border prairies and the outlying districts were occupied by cattle ranches.

Nearly all, if not quite all, of the male population came down to the dock to see the unusual sight of a big touring automobile on the ferry boat. Many were the comments made by the ranchmen and herders.

After much pulling and hauling the car was rolled from the big scow, and the travelers, glad to feel that they were once more in their own country, began to think of a place to spend the night.

“Where is the nearest hotel?” asked Jerry of a man in the crowd.

“Ain’t but one, stranger, an’ it’s right in front of you,” was the reply, as the cowboy pointed to a small, one story building across the street from the river front.

“Is Professor Driedgrass in that bunch?” asked a voice as the travelers were contemplating the hostelry. “If he is I have a letter for him.”

“I am Professor Snodgrass,” replied the scientist, looking toward the man who had last spoken.

“Beg your pardon, Professor Snodgrass. I kinder got my brands mixed,” the stranger went on. “Anyhow I’m th’ postmaster here, an’ I’ve been holdin’ a letter for ye most a week. It says it’s to be delivered to a man with three boys an’ a choo-choo wagon, an’ that description fits you.”

“Where’s it from?” asked Mr. Snodgrass.

“Come in a letter to me, from a feller named Nestor, up at a place in the mining section,” was the reply. “Th’ letter to me said you might likely pass this