Several days have elapsed, days filled with anxiety over the fate of Santiago, and once more the boys find themselves in the saddle, headed for the Rio Grande.

“It sure does seem good to feel your pony between your knees,” exclaimed Donald, after they had galloped along a couple of miles at a lively rate, the horses themselves setting the pace after their days of rest.

“That it does,” replied Billie, “especially when your mind is at ease. I shouldn’t be enjoying myself at all, were I not sure that Santiago was on the road to recovery. That certainly was a nasty cut. I hope this trail will lead us to where we want to go.”

“I can see no reason why it should not,” declared Adrian. “It is as plain as the nose on your face.”

“And that’s pretty plain in your case,” laughed Donald, for it was a well-known fact that Adrian’s nose was his most prominent feature.

“I wish I could see it that way,” insisted Billie. “It looks to me as though this were a good deal of a wild goose chase.”

“I don’t see how you figure it,” retorted Adrian, and he put his hand into his inside pocket and took therefrom a piece of paper. “Here is the address as plain as can be: 'Rafael Solis, Presidio del Norte, care SeÑor Pancho Villa.’ What more do you want?”

“I want to know who Pancho Villa is, and where he lives! There is nothing sure we can locate such a man.”

“Santiago says he is well known.”

“Yes, for a peon,” said Billie, determined not to be satisfied.

“Santiago says he is more than a peon. He says he is a great man.”

“That may be so—in the eyes of Santiago; and still he may amount to very little in a place as big as Presidio del Norte.”

“To hear Santiago talk about him,” interjected Donald, “you’d think he was a great general.”

“That’s because he was the head of a little band of what Santiago calls patriots during the Madero revolution,” replied Billie.

“Well, that ought to be enough to identify him,” declared Adrian exultantly. “I’ll bet we can find him.”

Billie was not satisfied, but as the road at this point was through a ford of the river, conversation for the time was interrupted; and, when the boys again came abreast, the conversation took another turn. What has been said, however, is sufficient to show the mission upon which the boys were bent.

By dint of hard riding the boys reached the Rio Grande before dark, and immediately crossed to the American side and hunted up Captain Peak.

“Well, well!” he exclaimed, as he caught sight of them. “I was afraid you had run into some kind of trouble, you were gone so long!”

“Some kind of trouble!” laughed Donald. “Several kinds of trouble would come nearer hitting it.”

“You don’t say so!” and the captain opened his eyes wide.

“Indeed we do,” said Billie.

“Then I’m even more glad to see you,” chuckled Captain Peak. “Suppose you come into the hotel and tell me about it.”

Giving their horses to the mozo, the boys accepted the captain’s invitation; but, after a few words, which indicated that the story was to be a long one, he insisted that its recital be postponed until they had eaten their supper. The suggestion was promptly seconded by Billie, who declared emphatically that the story could wait, but that the supper could not.

If it were not that Captain Peak might be kept waiting too long, it would be interesting to tell you what and how much Billie ate at that meal. He has since declared it was the greatest he ever ate—which is a most remarkable statement, and easily classes it as “some supper.”

But the longest meal eventually comes to an end, and then the boys sat down with Captain Peak and gave him a detailed account of their happenings from the time they left him a week before up to their return.

“I was sure I was making no mistake when I sent you out,” he declared, when the story was finished. “You evidently stumbled right into the very band I have been looking for. Of course I have heard something of the capture from across the river, the captain of the rurales having given out the information. Naturally he took all the credit, and no mention was made of you boys, which,” continued Captain Peak, after a minute’s reflection, “is a good thing, seeing that the adventure is only just begun.”

“Only just begun!” exclaimed Billie. “I was in hopes we were near the end.”

“So far as your part is concerned, that may be true; but it looks to me like the beginning of another serious revolution. Evidently this Don Rafael is acting for someone else—whom, I cannot tell, but I imagine for Felix Diaz—who naturally would like to take revenge upon Madero for driving his uncle, Porfirio Diaz, out of Mexico.

“If he expects any help from Villa, however, I am afraid he is going to be greatly mistaken. I know Villa well, and, peon though he is, he is a brainy man, and an ardent Maderist. I don’t believe they will ever get him to join a movement against the president.”

“That’s what Santiago says; but Don Rafael is a smooth talker, and he may make such promises that Villa will listen to him,” explained Adrian.

“Of course it is none of my business,” continued Captain Peak, “as long as they stay on their own side of the river; but the trouble is, they are always coming over here to do their plotting, and to get arms enough to start things going. That’s why I am glad of this information, and I shall do all I can to help the present government.”

“My interest in the matter is all on account of my promise to Santiago,” said Billie. “If we can find this Don Rafael, we shall at once notify the proper authorities, and I think the rurales will not lose him again.”

“I’ll do all I can,” said Captain Peak, “but I must act within my jurisdiction.”

“How can we find this Pancho Villa?” queried Adrian.

“Just go over to Presidio del Norte and ask the first peon you see,” was the captain’s reply. “They all know him.”

Billie sprang from his chair. “Come on!” he exclaimed, “let’s waste no time. We may find him in time to put him on his guard.”

“I wouldn’t go tonight, if I were you,” cautioned the captain.

“Why not?” asked Billie.

“Well, I don’t think it is hardly safe.”

“You don’t think we are afraid, do you?”

“It isn’t a question of fear. It is rather a question of a fight, and I know you don’t want to get into a fight.”

Billie scratched his head.

“I don’t know as I should exactly say we wanted to get into a fight; but we wouldn’t mind if something should happen that would give us a chance to take a fall out of our friend, Don Rafael.”

Captain Peak laughed.

“I see!” he said. “All you want is a chance, and you’re not so particular who furnishes it. But, take my advice, and don’t get into trouble tonight. Things are too unsettled, and I don’t want to be obliged to make a raid into Mexico to rescue you. I have even had to answer quite a few questions about the trouble we had the other day over by Don Pablo’s.”

“All right,” laughed Billie. “We won’t get into any trouble. We will just see this wonderful peon, and put a flea in his ear, and then we’ll come back.”

“Just as you say,” was the captain’s answer. “I’m sure you are able to take care of yourself.”

Bidding the captain good-night, the boys called for their horses and slowly rode across the river.

Presidio del Norte is not a large town, but as it is on the line of the Orient railroad—which at this particular time was in process of construction—it was quite a lively place for a Mexican pueblo. It is built around the inevitable plaza, the stores all facing thereon, and, when the stores and the little booths in the plaza are all lighted, becomes quite an attractive spot.

Drawing up at one of the booths, the boys accosted an intelligent-looking peon, and stated their errand. He looked at them a bit suspiciously, but finally agreed to help them find the object of their search.

“Follow me,” he said, and, turning away from the brightly lighted plaza, led them down a dark and narrow street. “Pancho is a poor man, seÑores, and does not live in a very nice place.”

“He didn’t need to tell us that,” laughed Adrian. “We still are able to see.”

“No,” said Donald to the guide, “you do not need to apologize. We understand that Pancho is an honest man, which is more to his credit than to live in a fine house.”

The Mexican led them about four or five squares and stopped before a miserable little adobe house.

“Aqui’sta!” he exclaimed, and knocked loudly on the half-open door.

“Quien es?” came a voice from within, meaning, “Who is it?”

“Americanos to see Pancho,” replied the guide.

“Bueno!” came the voice, and a moment later a large, fine-looking man appeared in the doorway.

“I am Pancho Villa,” he said pleasantly. “What can I do for you?” and this was the Broncho Rider Boys’ introduction to the man who afterward became the foremost general of Mexico.