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He by river there little time past," said one, pointing to a clump of cottonwood trees that rose above a fringe of willows. "Buenos noches, hombres," said Abe. "Buenos noches, Senor," came the chorus of soft voices in the dusk. On the high bank under the cottonwoods the Seer sat with bowed head.
Belts and cartridge boxes along with bayonets decorated the walls or were lying about on boxes and barrels. All eyes were turned on me. I saw myself in a fearful trap and nothing but consummate coolness could keep them from questioning me. My heart beat fast, but with an affectation of indifference I saluted and said: "Buenos noches, senores."
He slept till late, ate breakfast leisurely, and after an hour of looking over the paper and gossiping with the hotel clerk about the holdup he called casually upon the deputy sheriff. Only one thing of importance he gleaned from him. This was that the roan with the white stockings had been picked up seven miles from Noches the morning after the holdup.
"I see you have quite made up your mind I'm a skunk," the wounded man told him amiably. "You robbed the bank at Noches and shot up three men that hadn't hurt you any," the boy retorted defiantly. "Not unless Jim Yeager is a liar." "Oh, Jim! No use going into that. He's your friend. I don't know why, but he is." "And you're Brill Healy's.
Yes, and I suppose my young gentleman will be parading to-morrow morning with a camouflage tunic over his pyjamas, looking to me to pull him through squadron drill. Iron-grey. God save us, thin! A Mexican roan. Buenas noches! Gunpack horse. Hish! Orderly Officer. 'E's in the Fourth Troop lines nah; you can 'ear 'im cursin' as he trips over the heel shackles. Monty. Hush, you fellows.
We know you for a rustler, and that's enough. But it ain't all. Yesterday you gave us surplusage when you shot up three men in Noches. Right now I serve notice that you've reached the limit." "You serve notice, do you?" "You're right, I do." "But not legal notice, Mr. Healy."
Even if I did have a kind of notion that way I'd have to give it up. Brill's got a steel-bound, copper-riveted alibi. He couldn't have been at Noches at three o'clock and with you two hours later, fifty-five miles from there. No hawss alive could do it." "But, Jim why, it's absurd, anyway. We've known Brill always. He couldn't be that kind of a man. How could he?"
"An involuntary guest, my brother puts it. Until the sheriff can make other arrangements." "You have no right to do it without notifying my father. He is at Noches with my brother." "Mr. Weaver will do as he thinks best about that." The spinster shut her lips tight and walked from the room. Supper was brought to Phyllis by the Mexican woman. In spite of her indignation she ate and slept well.
He failed to meet me at the rendezvous set, but was effusive when I ran across him in the evening round of the plaza: "Ah, amigo mio. Muy buenas noches. Como 'sta uste-e-e? So delighted! I was grieved beyond measure to miss you. I live in the Calle Reforma, number 83. There you have your own house. I am going there now. Do you not wish to accompany me? I have...."
For a week Bucky had been in the little border town of Noches, called there by threats of a race war between the whites and the Mexicans. Having put the quietus on this, he was returning to Epitaph by way of the Huachuca Mountains.
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