In another minute Bob's money-belt, with the best part of five hundred dollars, was in the possession of the Mexicans. He wished he had kept still.
"This is doing very well," observed Vasco, as he counted over the bills with glistening eyes. "This is very well indeed, and most unexpected. But we want more than this."
"But your people, your father has more," went on the Mexican. "I think if you were to write him a letter, stating that you were about to be killed unless he sent ten thousand dollars, he would be glad to give us the small amount."
"I'll never write such a letter!" exclaimed Bob. "You can kill me if you want to!"
"You'll think differently in the morning," remarked Vasco. "Here, you fellows, tie him up so he can't get away again!"
This time the ropes were knotted so tightly about the boy's arms and legs that he knew he could not work them loose. He was thrown over the back of the pony and the cavalcade started off again.
All night long the march continued, the men on their horses and Noddy and his friends in the auto. Poor Bob felt sick at heart over his failure to escape and the knowledge, conveyed to him in Vasco's remarks, that he was being held for ransom.
Just as day was beginning to break, the party reached a small Mexican village and preparations were made to spend some time there. Vasco and his men seemed to know the place well, for they were greeted by many of the inhabitants of the place who had arisen early. Noddy ran the automobile under a shed and then the whole crowd, taking Bob with them, went to a large house at the end of the principal street, where they evidently intended to make their headquarters.
Bob was taken to a small room on the second floor, facing the courtyard, which is a feature of all Mexican homes. His bonds were released and he was thrust roughly inside.
The apartment was bare enough. There were a table, a chair and a bed in the room. The only window was guarded by heavy iron bars, and the single door was fastened with a massive lock.
"I guess I'll have trouble getting out of here," said Bob to himself. "It's a regular prison. I wonder if they're going to starve me?"
He began to suffer for want of water, and his stomach cried for food. He had some thought of pounding on the walls and demanding to be fed, when the door opened and a girl quickly entered, setting on the table a tray of food. She was gone before Bob had a chance to get a good look at her, but he saw that she was young and pretty, attired as she was in gay Mexican colors.