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Updated: June 20, 2025
Got to protect your hand from these wolves, Dave." He pushed in a stack of blue chips. The third American did not stay. It was now up to the dealer his name, it appeared, was Ramon Culvera. After a moment's hesitation he measured a stack of blues by those the boy had put in the pot and added to it another pile of yellows. With a grunt of protest the older Mexican stayed.
The general gave them the United States, the sister republic to the north, and spoke affectingly of his desire to promote a better feeling between the countries by this marriage. The host had not expected his poker party to develop so much oratory, but he rose briefly to the occasion. The subject of his remarks was, "A United Mexico." But it was Culvera who capped the climax.
"Naturally she will not wish to stay here when her friends leave." Steve leaned against the porch post with a deep breath of relaxation. "If I'm sleeping, don't let any one wake me, general," he implored, smiling for the first time. "I confess your amazement surprises me," said Culvera suavely. "Did you think all Mexicans were like Pasquale? He was a great man, but he was a savage.
One climbed the rope ladder, looked in the window, and explained with much gesturing to those below that the room was empty. Random shots were thrown toward the river and into the grove. But nobody headed the pursuit. They were waiting for a leader. Then Pasquale burst furiously into sight around the house. Culvera, Ochampa, and Holcomb followed him.
He knew there was no use of an appeal for mercy and he made none. "So I've been tried and convicted without even being present. Fine business. I reckon you've got an explanation handy when Uncle Sam comes asking whyfor you murdered an American citizen." Culvera lifted in mock surprise his eyebrows. "An American citizen! Surely not.
The song he caroled was, "When Gabriel blows his horn in the mawnin'." After his failure to stop Yeager's escape, Culvera lost no time before starting a party in pursuit. He knew there was small chance of finding the American in that rolling sea of hills, but there was at least no harm in making the attempt.
He faced the other Mexican officers, tossed away his revolver, and folded his arms. "Whenever you are ready, gentlemen," he said quietly. Ramon Culvera was the first to recover. From his automatic revolver he flung a bullet into the straight, erect figure facing him. The others crowded forward and fired into the body as it began to sink. The Texan gave a sobbing sigh.
Philip sat silent, his mind seething with suspicions. Culvera had played his hand very strangely, unless unless he had known that a fourth eight was waiting for him in the deck. The boy looked up, in time to catch a vanishing smile on the face of Mendoza. "Just a moment, Ramon," he called sharply, covering the chips with his hands. "That play it don't look good to me.
"Shouldn't wonder," agreed the young officer with a pleasant smile. He lived in an atmosphere where such things were not uncommon, and on occasion could take a hand himself. "Fat lot you care," complained the photoplay actor sullenly. "You wouldn't lift a hand to save your pardner." Culvera patted him on the shoulder cheerfully. "What can I do? Do I not live under the shadow myself?
The procession moved forward again. Not a word had been spoken, but Pasquale's golden smile had vanished. The fingernails of his clenched fist bit savagely into the palm of his hand. From the procession Culvera saluted Yeager ironically. "Buenos and adios, señor." The man to whom he spoke did not even know the Mexican was there.
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