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Updated: June 3, 2025
For an hour or more he walked about, listening casually to this or that bit of conversation. Occasionally he heard Mexicans discussing the Ortez robbery. Donovan's name, Waring's own name, Vaca's, and even Ramon's were mentioned. It seemed strange to him that news should breed so fast. Few knew that he had returned.
Yawl's onslaught was so sudden that the boy had been unable to draw his machete, and after a desperate bout of tugging and straining, the sailor had got the upper-hand and was now kneeling on Ramon's chest, and feeling for his knife. Though sorely bruised with my fall, and still gasping for breath, I ran to the rescue, and gripping Yawl by the shoulders, bore him backward on the deck.
And if Ramon rode on north, some of them would trail the Mexican. This would split up the band decrease the odds by perhaps one half. But the idea faded from Waring's mind as he saw the boy fling past desperately. Waring swung to the saddle and rode out. Ramon's horse plunged to a stop, and stood trembling. The boy all but fell as he dismounted. Stumbling toward Waring, he held out both hands.
It was a pretty slick trick of Ramon's to find that out, although, I guess, some old Indian gave him the tip." "It's a great scheme," put in Walt Phelps, finding his tongue at last. "You chaps are a good deal younger than I expected to find you," rattled on the stranger, "but I suppose you've seen lots of service." "Yes, lots of it," put in Ralph, throwing some fervor into his tone.
She listened, her hands motionless, her eyes full of desolation. Seraphina's attitude, leaning her cheek on her hand, reminded me of the time when I had seen her absorbed in watching the green-and-gold lizard in the back room of Ramon's store, with her hair falling about her face like a veil. Castro was not called in till later on.
You made a good ride." "Si, señor. I have not stopped once." "You look it. You can't go back now. They would shoot you." "I will ride with the señor." Waring shook his head. Ramon's eyes grew desperate. "Señor," he pleaded, "take me with you! I cannot go back. I will be your man follow you, even into the Great Beyond. You will not lose the way."
The bulls were already safely shut away in another inclosure, and all the open space around the corrals was filled with horses, and donkeys, and sheep, and goats, and dogs, and cats, and fowls of all kinds, all dressed in such gay colors and making such a medley of sounds that the Fourth of July, fire-crackers and all, would have seemed like Sunday afternoon beside the celebration of San Ramon's Day in Mexico.
Annie-Many-Ponies, standing there looking at Ramon Ramon who laughed at her goodness knew now what the future that had lain behind the mountains held in store for her. Not happiness, surely; not the wide ring of gold that would say she was Ramon's wife. Luis was right. He had spoken the truth, though she had believed that he lied when he said Ramon would never marry a woman.
"If you want the day to go right," said Doña Teresa as she rose from her knees, "always begin with saying your prayers and washing your face. And now, Tonio, run and catch Pinto for your father while I get his breakfast, for the cows must be rounded up for milking even if it is San Ramon's Day; and Tita, you take the little red olla and go for water!"
Such were the thoughts that went crashing through Ramon's mind and his grip on the woman's arm slackened. The woman wrenched herself loose and continued her journey with increased speed.
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