Tom, smiling pleasantly, drew forth a few loose American coins that he had with him and scattered them in the road.

Then he hastened on to the telegraph station, a squalid-looking little one-room shanty.

But the place looked good to Tom, for its wires reached out over the civilized world, and more especially ran to the dear old United States that he was so anxious to reach with a few words.
Tom passed inside, to find a bare-footed, white-clad Mexican soldier at a telegraph desk.

The soldier wore the chevrons of a sergeant.
"Sergeant, may I send a telegram from here ?" Tom inquired in Spanish.
"Certainly, senor," replied the sergeant, pushing forward a blank.
As this telegraph station was a military station, it was under the exclusive control of the soldiery.
Tom picked up the blank and the proffered pencil.

He dated the paper, then wrote the name and address of the manager of his and Harry's engineering office in the United States.