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At the United States end of an international river bridge, four armed rangers sweltered in a little 'dobe hut, keeping a fairly faithful espionage upon the lagging trail of passengers from the Mexican side. One of O. Henry's hosts during his stay on ranches in South Texas was Leigh Hall, a man from O. Henry's home town in North Carolina, who had been one of the most famous Texas Rangers.
I could hear her laughing, musically and not unpleasantly, at the mud-coated "democrat," which on its return looked a good deal like a 'dobe hut mounted on four chariot wheels. But everything, for that matter, was covered with mud, horses and harness and robes and even the blanket in which Lady Alicia had wrapped herself.
When they arrived at the Double Dobe they found nothing of their former prizes but a fresh trail. They made the best speed they could, but the Mexicans were "shoving those cattle hard," as the old-timers say. They had a good lead and they held it clear to Guadalupe Cañon. The running fight that followed lasted half-way through the gorge.
A spurt of flame and smoke leaped from the window of a 'dobe hut and Mr. Connors sat down, firing as he went. A howl from the window informed him that he had made a hit, and Mr. Cassidy ran out and dragged him to the shelter of a near-by bowlder and asked how much he was hurt. "Not much in the calf," grunted Mr. Connors.
Never in its palmiest days had the 'Dobe Dollar's mirrors reflected a costume more gaudy than the one she was wearing. The men too were painted and dolled up extravagantly in vaqueros' costumes that were the limit of absurdity. Had they all escaped from a madhouse? Or was he, Steve Yeager, in a pipe-dream? From a near grove of cottonwoods half a dozen men in chaps came running.
Six muscular, nimble policemen overpowered him and conveyed him, triumphantly but warily, to jail. "El Diablo Colorado" they dubbed him, and derided the military for its defeat. Dicky, with the rest of the prisoners, could look out through the barred door at the grass of the little plaza, at a row of orange trees and the red tile roofs and 'dobe walls of a line of insignificant stores.
Like a shot I halted in the shadow, where I had not been seen. "Sho! Ain't boardin' heah, is he?" said the other. "Yes." "Reckon he'll hurt your business, Jim." The fellow called Jim emitted a mirthless laugh. "Wal, he's been all my business these days. An' he's offered to rent that old 'dobe of mine just out of town. You know, where I lived before movin' in heah.
Bartley urged him on. For the first time the big horse showed an inclination to ignore the rein. Bartley gazed round, saw nothing in particular, and spoke to the horse, urging him forward. Dobe turned and marched deliberately away from the road, heading toward the west, and nickered. From behind the screen of junipers came an answering nicker. Bartley hallooed. No one answered him.
One hundred in the shade kept the vicinity somewhat depeopled. This quarter of the town was a ragged edge; its denizens the bubbling froth of five nations; its architecture tent, /jacal/, and 'dobe; its distractions the hurdy-gurdy and the informal contribution to the sudden stranger's store of experience.
"So much is settled.... Dad, I've got to get Jim Blake out of that jail." "I reckon so. It might be a job an' then again it mightn't. Depends on Jim. An' between you an' me, Pan, I've no confidence in Jim." "That doesn't make any difference. I've got to get him out and send him away. Head him for Arizona where we're going.... Is it a real jail?" "Dobe mud an' stones," replied his father.
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