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"You've got it right," he chuckled. "So Larkin bit, did he? It's nothing but pure bunk, one of those old Mex' legends that run back to the beginning of time. We pass it on to every green operator from over the border, but I reckoned Larkin was too wise a bird to take any stock in it." "He didn't," Thode returned carelessly.
"Oh, now," interrupted Bob, "at two dollars Mex per day I'd have given good value." "Mebbe," retorted the marshal, "but these gentlemen hev come here on particular business and they came like gentlemen. The officials o' this city hev give their word that there shouldn't be no interferin' with their plans. And thet's what you're a-doin'. Now git!" Ned broke in: "One moment, Mr. Marshall"
It used to be mighty rough, I reckon, an' only good fer hikers, but they fixed it up so they can drive cattle down, an' even a wagon if yer take it easy." "Mendez fixed it?" "No; I heerd that Bill Lacy sorter handled that job. The Mex can't do nuthin' but steal." "Then Lacy is the go-between? He sells the cattle?" "Sure; I s'posed yer knew that.
Outside Pete asked Brevoort if he had not "jest about made a present of fifty to that Mex." "Not any. He figures he'll get his share of it when we git to hittin' the high-spots which we don't aim to hit, this journey. That Mexican sure thinks he's got all the money we own except what's on us right now. So he won't ever think of goin' through our stuff upstairs.
"It's as pretty a mixup as ever I heard tell of," Frank had said several times that afternoon, while they were exchanging confidences in connection with the remarkable possibilities around them. "What with the rustlers, Peg and his crowd of thunder investigators, the little Mex. boy and his unknown prospector bunch; and last but not least, Bob, ourselves, it sure has me going some."
"White antelope?" The captive nodded again, in dumb perplexity, eager to encourage any sign of human kindness on the part of the wild being into whose power she had fallen. "White Mex teeth." She showed her sharp incisors, presenting an aspect of fierce scorn. "Castiliano. My home. Come."
No sign was made of surrender, and an occasional fire was kept up on the forts, to prevent the Egyptians from repairing damages. At one o'clock, twelve volunteers from the Invincible started to destroy the guns of Fort Mex. Their fire had ceased, and no men were to be seen in the fort; but they might have been lying in wait to attack any landing party.
Krafft recalled the circumstance, and named Keith. Mex slapped his head. "That's right! It come to me afterward. Well, there's dirty work with his wife. That's where I see the name, on the outside of the note. I just give her a fake letter that says her husband is shot, and she's to go to him." "How did he know what the letter said?" interjected Keith at this point.
They reached toward her and drew back in alarm. He was too white-livered to go through with his villainy boldly. He recorked the bottle and put it in his hip pocket. "'Nough said," he blustered. "Me, I'll git on my hawss and be joggin' along to Mex. I'll take chances on their finding you before you're starved. After that it won't matter to me when they light on yore body."
Again he burst into wild laughter, followed by his companions. "I don't see how folks can be so dam' funny!" he gasped. "It's natural to 'em, like warts," said Willie; "they're born with it, the same as I was born to shoot straight with either hand, and the same as the Mex was born to throw a rope.
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