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And then she remarked that she must be returning home, and said she would be glad if he would accompany her part way as there was a Mexican's house half way to town where a particularly vicious dog always rushed out. The dog rushed out exactly as she had predicted, barking savagely, so that she slipped her arm into the engineer's and held fast until they were past.
Before he could gain breath to utter a cry, Hathaway had passed his right arm around the Mexican's throat, effectively stopping his utterance, and, with a supreme effort of strength, dragged him along the wall, falling with him into the open window of his own room.
The Mexican's courage to attempt escape by a plunge into the shadows failed him, and reluctantly he lifted his empty hands, snarling an oath. "Keep them up!" ordered Merry, as he slowly advanced. But when he was fairly in the moonlight another voice issuing from the shadows near at hand brought him to a halt. "Drop um gun! Ben him ready to shoot!" It was the redskin sentinel.
Stillwell's cowboys were always chasing these vaqueros off land that belonged to Stillwell. He owned twenty thousand acres of unfenced land adjoining the open range. Don Carlos possessed more acreage than that, and his cattle were always mingling with Stillwell's. And in turn Don Carlos's vaqueros were always chasing Stillwell's cattle away from the Mexican's watering-place.
The quarrel originated in a gambling-house, and this Mexican's opponent was mortally wounded, and there he sat, with the guilt of human blood upon his hands, describing to his vis-a-vis the way in which he had taken aim at his adversary, and no one seemed to think anything about it.
In another instant the battle had been fought and won, the die cast. She turned hastily toward her unconscious companion, grasping her arm. "Mr. Winston is coming, Mercedes; I I must see him this time alone." The Mexican's great black eyes flashed up wonderingly into the flushed face bending over her, marking the heightened color, the visible embarrassment.
The fact was he was dead scared, and, then again he believed he had really struck the hidden recess where the old Mexican's gold was secreted. The young are more susceptible to superstitious fears, as a rule, than older people; they are not skeptical.
On the walls were nailed the skins of different beasts, raccoons, wild-cats, and the tree-civet, with its ringed tail. The Mexican's brown wife and children were in the hut, but the man himself and the goats were off in the forest, and it took us three or four hours' search before we found him.
The six-shooter tentatively expanded and stopped six inches from the Mexican's nose. "Yu wants to ride easy, hombre. I ain't no angel, but I don't poison no woman; an' don't yu amble off with th' idea in yore head that she wants to be poisoned. Why, she near stuck a knife in me!" he lied. The Mexican's face brightened somewhat, but it would take more than that to wipe out the insult of the blow.
Echo laid her hand softly on the mouth of her sweetheart. "We won't spoil our happiness, then, by talking about it. We will just feel it just be it." She laid her head upon Jack's knee. He placed his arm lightly but protectingly over her shoulder. They sat in silence listening to the Mexican's song.
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