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Why didn't you ride after her, Pratt?" "I might, had I known when she went home," replied Pratt, cheerfully. "I beg the Señor's pardon," whispered José, who was gathering up the plates. "The señorita did not go home." Pratt looked at the boy, sharply. "Sure?" he asked. "Quite so si, señor." "Where did she go?" "Quien sabe?" retorted José Reposa, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Instead of seeing only José Reposa or one of the other Mexicans hanging about, here was a row of punchers roosting along the top rail of the corral fence, and evidently so much interested in what was going on in the enclosure that they did not notice the approach of Captain Rugley's daughter.
"It will make fifteen at table," said the practical Frances, thinking hard of the resources of the household. "That's all right. I'll get in the Reposa boys to help San Soo and Ming." "Victorino, too?" asked his daughter, curiously. "Yes," declared the Captain, stoutly. "He's sorry he mixed up with Ratty M'Gill. Vic isn't a bad boy.
Frances knew that she was a prisoner. The party of visitors to the Edwards ranch tired of jack-shooting and jack-running before noon. José Reposa had cached a huge hamper of lunch which the Bar-T cook had put up, and he softly suggested to Mrs. Edwards that the company be called together and luncheon made ready, with hot coffee for all. "But where's Pratt?" cried somebody.
"A peine le 'Khoutoukhtou' avait-il prononce ces mots que les tourmens des damnes cesserent; leur esprit fut tranquillise, et ils se virent transportes sur le chemin du Bouddha. Le Khoutoukhtou ayant ainsi rendu propres a la delivrance les six especes des etres vivans dans les trois royaumes du monde, se trouva fatigue, se reposa et tomba dans un etat de contemplation interieure!
José Reposa had the dogs in leash two long-legged, sharp-nosed, mouse-colored creatures, more than half greyhound, but with enough mongrel in their make-up to make them bite when they ran down the long-eared pests that they were trained to drive. The branch of the river that ran through Cottonwood Bottom was too shallow at least, at this season to float even a punt.
She heard from the chaplain of the Bylittle Soldiers' Home the day before she was to start on her brief journey, and she sent José Reposa with a long prepaid telegraph message to the station, arranging for a private car in which Jonas P. Lonergan was to travel from Mississippi to the Panhandle. She hoped the chaplain would come with him. About the ex-orderly of the home the letter said nothing.
Always the best epitaphs to be found in books are those composed by versifiers for their own and the reading public's amusement, and always the best in the collection are the humorous ones. The first collection I ever read was by the Spanish poet, Martinez de la Rosa, and although I was a boy then, I can still remember one: Aqui Fray Diego reposa, Jamas hiso otra cosa.
He also left soothing medicine to be given to the patient if he again became delirious. Frances was so much occupied with her father all that day that she could do nothing about Ratty M'Gill. She had noticed, however, that the Mexican boy, José Reposa, had driven the doctor to the ranch and that he took him back to the train again.
"Gal's gone to telephone for the medical sharp, who'll show up on Number 20 when she goes through Jackleg. I'm to meet him. Or," and he began to chuckle again, "José Reposa was, and I took his place so's to meet you here as I promised." "And lots of good your meeting me seems to do me," growled the man called Pete. "Well, old fellow! is that my fault?" demanded the puncher. "I don't know.
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