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Miss Frances Candler, this is Miss Blondie Bonnell, late of Wintefield's Saratoga Sanitarium for sick purses, and still later of MacAdam's Mott Street branch! Now, Blondie, like a good girl, run along and get the lady something to drink!" This proffered refreshment the outraged lady in question silently refused, staring tight-lipped at the walls about her.

In the same hand with which he held the reins, he clutched a shining ornament that he had torn from one of the holy statues. After Quail, an expert in such matters, had examined Manteca's treasure covetously, he uttered a solemn guffaw. "Hell, Your ornament is nothing but tin!" "Why in hell are you hanging on to that poison?" Pancracio asked Blondie who appeared dragging a prisoner.

There's plenty of pretty girls to give us a good time," Blondie said. "Right now I feel like getting damn drunk," Demetrio answered, spurring his horse forward and leaving them as if he wished to abandon himself entirely to his sadness. After many hours of riding he called Cervantes. "Listen, Tenderfoot, why in hell do we have to go to Aguascalientes?"

All right, now! It's not ten or fifteen or twenty I'm going to give you. You're going to count for yourself.... One, two, three ... and when you've had enough you just tell me and I'll stop. And Blondie pulled out his sword and beat him till he cried for mercy." War Paint rocked in her saddle, convulsed with mirth. Camilla, unable to control herself, blurted out: "The beast!

Luis Cervantes pulled out four crisp "double-face" bills of Villa's issue and placed them in Quail's hands. "I'd like to buy the lot.... Besides, nobody will offer you more than that!" As the sun began to beat down upon them, Manteca suddenly shouted: "Ho, Blondie, your orderly says he doesn't care to go on living. He says he's too damned tired to walk."

Blondie showered eulogy after eulogy on Demetrio and his men; this proved sufficient reason for bringing out a fresh case of beer, which was finished in short order. Suddenly War Paint reappeared in the middle of the room, wearing a beautiful silk dress covered with exquisite lace. "You forgot the stockings," Blondie shouted, shaking with laughter. Quail's girl also burst out laughing.

The following morning, War Paint watched for the moment when Blondie left the bedroom to feed his horses.... "Come on, Angel Face. Run home quick!" The blue-eyed girl, with a face like a Madonna, stood naked save for her chemise and stockings. War Paint covered her with Manteca's lousy blanket, took her by the hand and led her to the street. "God, I'm happy," War Paint cried.

"I'll sell them to you myself." "How much do you want for them?" Pancracio frowned in bewilderment. "Give me a nickel for those with pictures, see. I'll give you the rest for nothing if you buy all those with pictures." The man returned with a large basket to carry away the books.... "Come on, Demetrio, come on, you pig, get up! Look who's here! It's Blondie. You don't know what a fine man he is!"

He went to one of the five cherry-wood desks which were strewn about the room, and still again touched a button. "Blondie," he said to the capped and aproned attendant who answered the call from the hair-dressing parlors, "I want you to meet this lady friend of mine!

Quickly, she ran to the bedroom door and peered through the keyhole, standing motionless until her eye grew accustomed to the darkness within. Without drawing away, she said: "You damned Blondie. Son of a bitch! Come here a minute, look!" She went away laughing. "Didn't I tell them all I'd never seen a smarter fellow in all my life!"