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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Miss Blake told me she was in love with Carara." Glass grunted contemptuously. "I've got it on that insurrects four ways. Why, I'm learning to talk Spanish myself. If he gets flossy, I'll cross one over his bow." The trainer made a vicious jab at an imaginary Mexican. "He ain't got a good wallop in him."
Miss Blake uttered a little scream, and Speed regarded the lanky speaker with new interest. "It's a Waltham movement, solid gold case, eighteen jewels, and engraved with my name." "No wonder you prize it," said Wally. "I bet my saddle," informed Carara, in his slow, soft dialect. "Stamp' leather wit' silver filagree. It is more dear to me than well I love it ver' much, Senor!"
He saw Stover laughing, and beheld the white teeth of Carara, the Mexican, who said: "Perhaps the Senor is sleepy!" Finding himself the object of what seemed to him a particularly senseless joke, the New-Yorker crept forth, his face suffused with anger. Strangely enough, he still retained the pipe in his fingers. "Say, are youse guys tryin' to kid me?" he demanded, roughly.
Theirs was an attitude of confidence tinged with caution. It was some time after midnight that Lawrence Glass had been the cause of a wild alarm that brought the denizens of the ranch out in night apparel. Jack Chapin, awakened by a cry for help, had found him in the hands of Carara and Cloudy, who had been doing night duty in accordance with Stover's orders.
Carara muttered something in Spanish which the others could not understand. "They're all fine pieces," Stover observed, placatingly, when fairly out of hearing of the ranch-houses. "You boys have each got your preference.
For answer she snatched the pocket-book from his hand. "Mr. Gallagher!" she called. Skinner watched from afar. "Some class to that gal!" was what he said, which proved that he was a person not wholly without sentiment. Speed leaped down from the buckboard in which Carara had driven him and Glass over to the Centipede corral.
Carara returned the knife to its hiding-place, swept the floor gracefully with his sombrero, then placing the spangled head- piece at an exact angle upon his raven locks, lounged out, his silver spurs tinkling in the silence. Glass took a deep breath. "He doesn't mean to kill you just cut you," said Speed. "I got it," declared the other, fervently.
Repeatedly his pursuers headed him off, but he rushed past them, seemingly possessed by the blind sense of direction that guides the homing pigeon or the salmon in its springtime run. He was headed toward the east. "Why, it's Larry!" ejaculated Speed. "And Cloudy and Carara." "Wally, your man has lost his reason!" Chapin called.
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