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"Our job is to ride to the Ortez rancho and get that outfit movin' up this way." "Goin' to turn the cattle over to 'em?" queried Pete. "Yes and that quick they won't know they got 'em. It's a big deal, if she goes through. If she don't, it's like to be the finish of the Olla." "Meanin' if the T-Bar-T and the Concho gits busy, there's like to be some smoke blowin' down this way?" "The same.
Any one of 'em would knife you for the hoss you're ridin'! Hear 'em sing! Most like they're all drunk and you know what that means. Just follow along slow; and whatever you run into don't get off your hoss." "Ain't them there coyotes friendly to Ortez?" "S' long as he feeds 'em. But that don't do us no good. Ought to be some of the Ortez riders hangin' round somewhere.
"Stanley, did I deposit a thousand dollars in gold to the credit of the Ortez Mine this afternoon?" "You did." "Just show Donovan here the receipt I asked you to keep for me." "All right. I'll get it." Donovan glanced at the receipt. "Pretty smooth," he muttered. Waring smiled. His silence enraged Donovan, who motioned to the police to leave the room. Waring interrupted.
He said you could figure on two hundred head" Pete recalled Harper's statement "and that you would send your agent over to the Olla with the cash." Arguilla glanced at Ortez. "You have heard, señor?" Ortez nodded dejectedly. He had heard, but he dare not speak.
But he knows, as sure's he's a foot high, that they'll trail him so he forgets that The Spider said you was to collect from Ortez and bank the dough and figures on collectin' it himself." "Kind of a cold deal, eh, Ed?" "All crooked deals is cold." "But I wonder why Brent didn't send me down to the Ortez alone. What did he ring you in for?" "Brent figured that I'd get wise to his scheme.
Her heart leaped to the ever-recurring dream of the husband, whose arms should take her up and hold her warmly against the memory of their separation. "Then there is no way out?" she asked again. "None, madame," and Philip Ortez bowed. "You will have to be the guest of a humble mountaineer." "I shall enjoy it, I am sure," she answered.
You do not know what this means to me! You will never know. I thank you, I thank you!" The tears rushed down her cheeks and dropped upon their clasped hands. "Claire, don't, please please don't," Philip pleaded, anguish in his tone. She stopped, forced back her sobs, and smiled at him. "Philip Ortez," she said, "I shall make you glad of this." Deep in his heart, the words gave him hope.
Carrying the woman in his arms the blind man had stumbled half across the Andes, for the boat was wrecked off the coast of Chile, and Philip Ortez, whose cabin they had reached, declared they were on the borders of Bolivia, about two hundred miles from the nearest railroad station. This Spanish scholar, gentleman, and recluse readily welcomed two such promising guests for the winter.
The men at arms had extricated from a heap of slain the limp body of my youngest brother, a boy of twenty, his pallid face gaping open from a cut across the cheek. He lifted his eyes languidly to mine. "Oh brother, you are come. Some water, water," he murmured. "Throw him in, men," Ortez interrupted. Perez yet hesitated. "Shall we not first dispatch him, sire?"
In the same year, 1545, Ruy Lopez de Villa Lobos, sent another ship from Tidore for New Spain, under the command of Ignatius Ortez de Rotha, and having Jaspar Rico as pilot, with orders to attempt the passage by the south side of the line.
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