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Updated: October 20, 2025
I asked him and he said he would." "You're very simple, Jack. But mind, he can keep his word and still use a gun outside the town!" "So he might!" admitted Jack, laughing in a way that indicated that the subject was distasteful to him; for he would never talk of the duel. Now we come to that little affair of Pedro Nogales.
Nogales seemed agreeable to the suggestion. Indeed, he was very expeditious in starting. While Jack never took his eye off the sight of his barrel, Nogales walked across the gleaming interval between the two parties waving Prather's handkerchief. Leddy rose on his knee watchfully, rifle in hand, while he spoke with Nogales.
"It must have been about two months ago, down at Nogales, that I sold it to a fellow. I was playing faro and losing. He gave me five dollars for it." And to that he stuck stoutly, nor could he be shaken from it. Both O'Connor and the sheriff believed he was lying, for they were convinced that he was the bandit with the red wig who had covered the engineer while his companions robbed the train.
An echo ripped the shimmering heat. A horse reared and plunged up the valley, the saddle empty. Waring rose, and plodded up the slope. "Three would have trailed us. Two will ride back to the railroad and report. I wonder how many of them are bushed along the trail between here and Nogales?" In the American custom-house at Nogales sat a lean, lank man gazing out of a window facing the south.
Jack answered, as he and Firio hugged the slope with their rifles resting on top and only their heads showing above it. "No! It couldn't be that they recognized me. They will let me by! They expect me!" "Yes, you belong on their side!" Jack called back. "I will send out a flag of truce!" said Prather, brightening with the thought. "You, Nogales, take my handkerchief and go and explain to Leddy!"
And the assistant collector, listening for a chance word that would explain the presence of armed Mexico on American soil, knew that the proprietor was also listening for that same word that might explain their unprecedented visit. Presently the assistant collector of customs began a tirade against Nogales, its climate, institutions, and citizens collectively and singly.
But to her there was something uncanny about his being here in Nogales. When he was gone, she stepped out through the open window to the veranda that ran the whole length of the hotel, and looked across the street into Mexico. She was, she decided critically, about fifteen feet from the boundary line. Just across the street fluttered the Mexican flag from the Mexican customhouse.
She went to the window and looked out, and saw that the street lay cool and sunless with the coming of dusk. From the American customhouse just on the opposite corner came Lite Avery, stalking leisurely along in his high-heeled riding-boots. Jean drew back with a little flutter of the pulse and watched him, wondering how he came to be in Nogales.
After all, it was only a raised patch of blue, a blemish removable by the slightest surgical operation which its owner must have preferred to retain. Firio and Nogales, also riding side by side, were also silent. There was no sound except Jag Ear's bells, now sunk to a faint tinkle in keeping with the slow progress of Prather's beaten horse.
I knew we were not going through the sand! Firio and I knew!" So rapidly were they gaining that, when past the sand and they turned back westward, it was only a question of half an hour or so to come up with Prather and Nogales. Nogales had been riding ahead; but now Prather, after gazing over his shoulder for some time at his pursuers, took the lead.
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