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"Gol rap it, Greg," exclaimed Ephraim, "I don't believe that's your real reason for not gittin' married! I'll bet some gal throwed you down!" "Well, perhaps you're right," admitted the young socialist. "You can't blame her if she did." "Why not can we blame her?" questioned Juanita. "Deed she have the other lovaire? Oh, ha! ha! Señor Carkaire!
There was a harsh, unpleasant laugh, and a voice cried: "Señor Carkaire ees right. Jose Murillo ees witheen thirtee yards of heem thees minute." Looking up in astonishment, the trio in the boat beheld the Mexican standing on the brink of the cliff. His clothes were somewhat wrinkled and soiled, seeming to need cleansing and pressing.
He was educated, cultured, and witty, although evidently lacking in humor. Possibly this came from the fact that he had so long and so earnestly regarded and meditated on the somber side of life. He seemed to fascinate Juanita, who listened intently whenever he spoke. "What you do, señor, when you travel so much?" inquired Teresa. "You leave Señora Carkaire at home?" Carker smiled sadly.
"She weel not let you." At this moment Mrs. Morton rose and changed her seat, placing herself at Carker's side as she laughingly observed: "Don't let me interrupt you. When the señorita has finished I will take a little of your time just a little." Juanita flashed her a look. "I am sure Señor Carkaire weel geeve you the time now," she said. "Eet ees not important what I have to say."
"I'm afraid this is rather a serious matter for Jose Murillo," he muttered. "Had I realized the scoundrel couldn't swim, I'd followed him into the lake and pulled him out. I take it he's gone." Juanita called to him from above: "Can't you see him, Señor Carkaire?" "Don't be alarmed, Juanita," he answered. "I'm coming back there. I'll be with you in a moment."
I've decided to make complaint against you for attacking me with a deadly weapon." Jose made a gentle gesture with his hand. "Some day in the future perhaps we weel settell that, Señor Carkaire," he said. "Save yourself the trouble to swear out the warrant. I shall go." With another sweeping bow, he turned and left the stand. "Oh, I don't like this game at all!" exclaimed Mrs. Morton.
"Oo!" breathed Juanita. "He ees the judge! He ees the magistrate! Then he must know everytheeng about the game. He must know more than every one else. Eet ees splendeed! I am so proud of Señor Carkaire!" Suddenly Winnie Badger clapped her hands, uttered a cry of delight, and started up. Buck had hit the ball.
The Mexican uttered a smothered oath and sought to produce his knife. "Thees time I fix you, Carkaire!" he panted. The dim light of the candle gleamed on the blade. Greg Carker tore himself free and struck a swinging blow which landed on Murillo's jaw. The Mexican crashed to the foot of the stairs, where he lay groaning while the aroused household flocked to the spot. "What is it, Carker?
"You may have the excuse if you weel leave Señor Carkaire to entertain us," murmured Juanita. "I'll remain here," nodded Greg. "I don't smoke." "Gol ding him!" growled Ephraim, as he followed Barney into the smoking compartment. "He's a bigger crank than ever! He's gittin' wuss and wuss!" "What he nades is a girrul to marry him and straighten him out," declared the Irish youth.
He can't tell just what every one is doing if he has to pay attention to himself. A coach can tell him what to do." Juanita Garcia had not spoken since the beginning of the game, but now she ventured to ask: "What ees eet Señor Carkaire he play? He keep saying: 'One ball! One strike! Two ball! Two strike! but he do nothing else." "He's the umpire. He is the judge who gives the decisions."
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