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He walked over to the table and took the tequila bottle up again. "I'll have another drink, if you don't mind," he said, to Gilbert's back. "Drink?" yelled Uncle Henry from his chair, frantic at the thought of any more of their precious liquor being consumed. It was hard enough to get, even when one had plenty of money.
The town of Santa Fe long rows of flat-topped adobes nestling under the mountain was at that day under Spanish rule. Only a few Americans then lived within its limits. It was a thriving, though sleepy, town, as it was the gateway to all Chihuahua. A well-beaten trail left it southward for El Paso, and its main street was lined with cantinas saloons where mescal and tequila ran like water.
If she needed anything, he said, he would try to help. The next day when he returned to check on her, he found that her father, aided in his spiritual pilgrimage by a fifth of tequila, had fallen from the fire escape, and was now in a City hospital pending deportation.
He is seated in the sala of Miranda's house, which he occupies as his official headquarters. He is alone, his only companion being the bottle that stands upon a table beside him this and a cigar burning between his lips. It is not wine he is drinking, but the whisky of Tequila, distilled from the wild maguey.
"I'll see about it now," Jones promised. "Haven't got a drink, have you, while we're waiting? Not that I need an appetizer! And it's damned hot, I know, to guzzle whiskey." "There's nothing good in the place. But I think the cook has some tequila." "Tequila? What's that, Jones?" "It's a Mexican drink." "Has it got a kick in it?" the other wanted to know.
Demetrio, nonplussed, scratched his head: "Look here, don't ask me any more questions.... You gave me the eagle I wear on my hat, didn't you? All right then; you just tell me: 'Demetrio, do this or do that, and that's all there is to it." To champagne, that sparkles and foams as the beaded bubbles burst at the brim of the glass, Demetrio preferred the native tequila, limpid and fiery.
He dragged him out by the hand to the patio of the hotel and set a tequila bottle on his head. The poor devil refused. Insane with fright, he sought to escape, but Blondie pulled his gun and took aim. "Come on, you son of a sea cook! If you keep on I'll give you a nice warm one!" Blondie went to the opposite wall, raised his gun and fired.
He couldn't help wondering why a man like Morgan Pell, with so many responsibilities, should wish to drink tequila. Left alone, there was that strange silence between Lucia and her husband which so often occurred nowadays. A barrier was between them, none the less real because it was invisible.
"Look, next time you decide to spend five shares of my stock on some deal like this, let me know, eh?" Freddy walked to the sideboard and got glasses. "Whiskey?" he said. "Tequila, if you've got it," Joe said. "Look, I'm beginning to have second thoughts about this campaign. Where's it got us, so far?"
Not being satisfied with her atheistic conclusions in this strange world, she was again left with the conclusion that something did exist out there, that permanent substance that was the entity or the prime mover, and it existed outside human logic. They were in the middle of dinner and a fourth shot of undiluted tequila when a woman uneventfully passed by their table and went inside.
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