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Updated: May 13, 2025
Beell, he tink so? Den you no like dat de Señor Brown be avay? No, no, you no like be lef' alone ven de fight come? He big, strong, brav'; he bettah as ten men, hey? Eet vas so, I tell you. I go vis de message, si; Señor Brown he stay here. Vould not dat be de bettah?"
Señor Brown he not like let me go; he tink I do all eet for him. Oh, de conceit of de men, ven I care not for anyting but de fun, de good time! But I talk him long vile, an' Beell he talk, an' maybe he say si for to git us rid of. Tink you not eet vas so, señor?"
A shadow, dim, ill-defined, seemed to take partial form in their front. "Well, can't yer speak?" questioned the same voice, growlingly. "What yer doin' on this yere trail?" Mercedes released the pony's bit, and leaned eagerly forward. "Vas dat you, Beell Heeks?" she questioned, doubtfully. The man swore, the butt of his quickly lowered rifle striking sharply against the rock at his feet.
She clasped her hands in an ecstasy of unrestrained delight. "Beell Heeks? Oh, señor, I know Beell Heeks. He vas ver' nice fellow, too but no so pretty like you; he old man an' swear Holy Mother, how he swear! He tol' me once come out any time an' see hees mine. I not know vere it vas before. Maybe de angels show me. You vas vat Beell call Stutter Brown, I tink maybe?
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