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Updated: May 22, 2025
Gregorio Falcon, Mexican vaquero and best thrower of the rope on the Cibolo, pushed his heavy, silver-embroidered straw sombrero back upon his thicket of jet black curls, and scraped the bottoms of his pockets for a few crumbs of the precious weed. "Ah, Don Samuel," he said, reproachfully, but with his touch of Castilian manners, "escuse me.
But I uz bawn sassy. I ought to be jess ashame' o' myseff, talkin' dat familious to a gen'leman o' yo' powehs an' 'quaintances. Why you evm knows Mr. Mahch, don't you?" "Who, me? Me know Johnnie Mahch? Why, my dea' escuse my smile o' disdaain why Johnnie Mahch why why, I ra-aise' Johnnie!" "Why, dee Lawdy! Does you call him Johnnie to his face?" "Well, eh not offm ve'y seldom.
"Mirandy stood off, thinkin' the creetur was wild or half-witted, likely; but I says: 'Bullets an' bombshells, Mirandy' escuse me, gentlemen, but that's a good, strong-soundin' espression, that relieves my feelin's good as a swear word, bullets an' bombshells, woman, don't yer see the girl's all broke up with the ague? 'Why, sur 'nough! cried she, a-comin' to her senses.
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