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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Those surely are not women from town," Weir exclaimed. "Oh, no. I never saw them before. Brought in here from somewhere Santa Fé perhaps, El Paso more likely. You know the kind who would mix with that crowd tough girls. They're wearing low necks and short skirts, red stockings and all that. You know the kind. Out of joints and dives somewhere.
At El Paso there was the peril of the Mexican population to be faced in case of attack from across the river; to say nothing of the thousand Mexicans employed in the smelting works down on the flats, and the five thousand refugees in the concentration camp, if they should mutiny and get out of control. Poor Mrs.
Ryan was a pale-faced person whose addiction to harmful drugs was notorious; his extreme pallor and his nervous lack of repose had gained for him the title of "Snowbird." Tommy's hollow eyes were glowing, his colorless lips were parted in an engaging smile. "Please run 'em once more. I 'ain't had so much fun since my wife eloped with a drummer in El Paso."
"Who is he?" asked Larry of the conductor, after the sheriff had left the train. "What, you never heard of Sam Jenks, sheriff of Pawnee County?" "We come from Ohio," said Tom, as though apologizing for their ignorance. "That accounts for it. If you lived between the Mississippi and El Paso you wouldn't ask such a question. "Sam Jenks, known to every cowboy as 'Shorty, is the nerviest man I know.
Passing over the divide between the waters of the Brazos and Concho, we struck the old Butterfield stage route, running by way of Fort Concho to El Paso, Texas, on the Rio Grande. This stage road was the original Staked Plain, surveyed and located by General John Pope in 1846.
Cavalry and infantry were moving south from other army posts, we heard, to guard the concentration camp of Mexican refugee prisoners at El Paso, and to beat back a rabble of invaders if need came. The order reached Alvarado late in the afternoon, and the batteries were to leave by train at four o'clock the next morning.
The word "turn" seemed to give Sandhelo a brilliant new idea, and, without warning, he rose on his hind legs, whirled around in a dizzy semi-circle, and started back in the direction whence he had come. Katherine, unable to check his inglorious flight, hung on grimly. He left the narrow ledge and started climbing the hill, leaving the black-hearted Bernal in full possession of the Paso del Mar.
"I suppose you'll be hitting the trail over the hill right soon," said Owen as he returned from the station and seated himself in one of the ample chairs on the hotel veranda. "Have a cigar." Pete shook his head. "They're all right. That El Paso lawyer smokes 'em." "They ought to be all right," asserted Pete. "Did he touch you pretty hard?" "Oh, say two thousand, jest like that!"
It was a country road, leading out from the foot-hills of the sierra to a crossing of the river, near the village of Tome, where it intersected with the main route of travel running from El Paso in the south through all the riverine towns of New Mexico. Turning northward from Tome, the white robbers, late disguised as Indians, pursued their course towards the town of Albuquerque.
How many Indians we killed I do not know, as we had no time or curiosity to stop and count them. They wounded some of our horses and we had to abandon one wagon, but we did not lose a man. From El Paso we went down through Chihuahua and Sonora to Guaymas, where the party split up, Capt.
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