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Updated: June 20, 2025
If you don't put friend Culvera out of business, it will presently be, 'Good-night, Pasquale. He's a right anxious and ambitious little lieutenant, I shouldn't wonder." Harrison triumphed openly. He followed out of the house the file of soldiers who took his enemy away. "Told you I'd git even a-plenty, didn't I?" he jeered. "Told you I'd make you sweat blood, Mister Yeager. Good enough.
His steady eyes made no accusation, mirrored no suspicion. Culvera could not tell what he was thinking. But he recognized resentfully a compulsion in them that he could not safely ignore. "With your permission I should like to talk also with Miss Seymour and the two moving-picture men," said Captain Girard.
At sight of Yeager the Mexican general smiled blandly. "Are you ready to take a long journey, Señor Yeager?" he asked. The heart of the cowpuncher lost a beat, but he did not bat an eye. "What journey? The same one that Holcomb took?" he demanded bluntly. Culvera showed a face of pained surprise. "Am I a barbarian? Do you think me another Pasquale? No, no, señor.
"You've said enough too much, damn you," he roared. With catlike swiftness Culvera sprang from where he sat, flung his weight low at the furious man from an angle, and tipped him from his feet so that he fell staggering into a chair. "None of that, amigo," said the Mexican curtly. "These gentlemen are guests of General Pasquale.
Must be very disappointing to you, since you had promised yourself to see his translation to heaven at sunrise." Harrison expressed himself bitterly in language emphatic and profane. Meanwhile Culvera smiled pleasantly and sympathetically. "You run Pasquale a close second. He cursed the roof off when he found breath." "I'm not through with Yeager yet.
He would stake him out on the desert to broil to death beneath a Mexican sun. Culvera showed the hat that he had punctured with his bullet. "Thus near I came to avenging you, general. See! One inch lower and I would have taken off the top of his head. Already Fuentes is pursuing him. Perhaps this Yeager may be dragged back to justice."
The teeth of the cowpuncher clenched tightly till the muscles of the jaw stood out like ropes. He would show this man that an American did not face a firing squad with a whine. At sight of the captain of cavalry sitting beside Culvera the heart of Yeager leaped. The long arm of Uncle Sam had reached across the border in the person of this competent West Pointer.
"Who in Mexico is this Pasquale?" he demanded, and then answered his own question: "Scum of the earth, a peon whipped for stealing whiskey, a hill robber and murderer. In my country they'd take the scoundrel and hang him by the neck." "True, amigo, all true," assented Culvera suavely, examining his cigarette as he spoke.
"You were both employed by the enemy to murder him and Culvera not so?" "Nothing of the sort. Young Seymour was in a poker game with Culvera and Mendoza. They were cross-lifting him and playing with a cold deck at that. I warned the kid. They began shooting. I could have killed either of them, but I blew out the lights instead. In self-defense the boy shot Mendoza. We escaped through the door.
"Good-evening, Colonel Culvera. You've guessed right, but you've guessed it a little too late." "What is this? Who is this man?" demanded Pasquale harshly. "The man Yeager, who escaped from you two weeks since," explained Ramon. "He has been in camp with us over a week arranging this girl's escape." The old general let out a bellow of rage. He strode forward to make sure for himself.
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