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Then, turning his venerable head to the doorway which led to the inner court, he shouted in a terrible voice: "Muchacho!" Instantly from behind the adobe wall, around the corner of which he had been slyly peeping, a black-eyed boy appeared and stood before him, his ragged straw hat held respectfully against his breast.
This was easy enough, as he constituted himself from that moment its sole nurse and attendant, and boldly baptized it among the other children by the name of Francisco. No others knew its origin, nor cared to know. Father Pedro had taken a muchacho foundling for adoption; his jealous seclusion of it and his personal care was doubtless some sacerdotal formula at once high and necessary.
Then I saw he was considering. In his hands, which lay twined on his knees, were a lot of little metallic oblongs. I disengaged them. The muchacho drew nearer, and with the torch over my shoulder I examined them. They were photographs, cheap tintypes. The first was of a woman, a poor being, sagging with overwork, a lamentable baby in her arms.
Otero picked his way to the upper end of a gulch. "Leesten, muchacho. Go down down down. First the gulch, then a cañon, then the Jackpot. You go on thees trail." He dropped the boy to the ground, watched him start, then turned away at a Spanish trot. The trail was a rough and precipitous one. Stumbling as he walked, Keith went sobbing down the gulch.
His name was Rafe Slafe which I thought an improbable combination of syllables and he was so chubby in every part you imagined you saw the smile which ought to have gone with such a face and figure. Before his breath had settled down to a normal routine, Gootes had rushed upon him with an enthusiastic, "Ah, Rafello muchacho, give to me the abrazo; como usted, compañero?"
"It is then that you love the American," he cried. "Did I not know it? Did I not say so?" "You say much that is foolish, muchacho. The American is a stranger to me ... and you are Pablo. But how can I love you when your heart is full of cruelty and jealousy and revenge? Go to the Blessed Virgin and confess before the good priest your sins, amigo." "Amigo!
"Usually yes," assented the prisoner. "But that is when one attempts to murder a Spaniard. This muchacho, however, is English; and nobody in Cuba is just now likely to trouble himself very much over the attempted murder of an Englishman. Besides, I have received a definite promise that, if caught, I shall be very leniently treated."
The two soldiers behind the fellow cackled merrily at his wit, and the encouraged turnkey tried again. "We shall trouble you but a little time. Only a few questions, senor, an order, and then poco tiempo, after a short walk to the gallows paradise." "What what do you mean?" gasped the girl whitely. "Never mind, muchacho. This is no affair of yours. Your turn will come later.
Reckon you don't know some cow-punchers killed my dad. Montoya did not smile. This muchacho evidently had spirit. Pete's invention, made on the spur of the moment, had hit "plumb center," as he told himself. For Montoya immediately became gracious, proffered Pete tobacco and papers, and suggested coffee, which the young Mexican made while Pete and the old man chatted.
"Far back, in the very old times, Caballeros," said Maruja, standing by the table in mock solemnity, and rapping upon it with her fan, "this place was the home of the coyote. Big and little, father and mother, Senor and Senora Coyotes, and the little muchacho coyotes had their home in the dark canada, and came out over these fields, yellow with wild oats and red with poppies, to seek their prey.
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