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The boys stood silent for a few minutes; then, by unspoken agreement, turned and went back into the house. Hartson Brant came down the stairs, dressed in a suit, with white shirt and tie. Rick stared at him. "Going somewhere, Dad?" "Yes. Parnell Winston has disturbed me deeply, with the implications of his theory. I'm going to pay a call on an old friend in Newark, an associate of Chavez.
Ignacio Chavez lifted such eyes to the eyes of the girl who had been watching him and spontaneously gave her the last iota of his ready admiration. "It is a fine day, señorita," he told her, displaying two glistening rows of superb teeth friendliwise. "And the garden . . . Ah, que hay más bonito en todo el mundo? You like it, no?"
"Wagalexa Conka, here is plenty hot coffee," came a soft voice at his elbow, and Luck turned with a smile to take the steaming cup from the hand of Annie-Many-Ponies. The Native Son poured a cup and offered it to Tomas Chavez. "Quire cafe?" he asked. "Si, señor; Gracias." Tomas smiled, and took the cup and bowed.
When he took film clippings to a town photographer to have enlargements made for "stills," the pictures which must accompany each set of prints as advertising matter, the cost of the work gave him the blues for the rest of that day. Then there were the Chavez boys, whom he had found it expedient to use occasionally in his big range scenes and in his "cow-town stuff."
It arrived in the form of a boy of ten or twelve, a ragged, scantily clothed, swarthy youngster, rubbing a great toe against a bare leg while from the front door he announced that Ignacio Chavez was sick, that he had eaten something muy malo, that he had pains and that he prayed that the doctor cure him. Patten grunted his disgust. "Tell him to wait," he said briefly.
Parnell Winston spoke for the first time. "Steve, if Chavez says Marks was drugged, we can accept it. How could it have happened?" Steve spread his hands in a gesture that seemed to Rick to indicate embarrassment. "I have gone over every step of the journey with Tom Dodd. The answer is yes.
Bimeby he marree som' girl, then what for you? He don' maree yoh, eh? He don' lov' yoh; he think too good for maree Indian girl. Me, I not think like that. I, Ramon Chavez, I think proud to lov, yoh. Ramon " "I not think Wagalexa Conka marry me." The girl was turning stubborn under his importunities. "Wagalexa Conka my brother my friend. I tell you plenty time. Now I tell no more."
It is as though some outside agent pierced the cranium and cut off the control centers of the brain." "A dagger of the mind," Scotty murmured. Chavez looked up sharply. "Yes! An ideal phrase for it." Rick recognized the quotation from his school-work. Macbeth, Act II. Another of Shakespeare's phrases from the same work leaped into his mind. "Macbeth hath murdered sleep." Not Macbeth, but Marks.
Sometimes he fails. Sometimes he ends up dead, because of his poor judgment. Be glad your lives weren't hanging in the balance." Rick took the lesson to heart. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. On the evening of the cereal fiasco, Parnell Winston returned to Spindrift after another visit to Dr. Chavez. He called Steve Ames and spent a long time talking to the JANIG agent.
The sheriff left him in silence and leading his horse went the few steps to the hotel. Ignacio Chavez appearing opportunely Norton gave his animal into the breed's custody; Ignacio, accustomed to doing odd jobs for el Señor Roderico Nortone, and to the occasional half dollars resulting from such transactions, led the big gray away while the sheriff entered the hotel.
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