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Updated: May 11, 2025
At Bobadilla, where again we had tea with hot goat's milk in it, we changed cars, and from that on we had the company of a Rock-Scorpion pair whose name was beautifully Italian and whose speech was beautifully English, as the speech of those born at Gibraltar should rightfully be.
You get your money, and know nothing more about it. How can that be smuggling?" "Well," said the captain, "it has nothing to do with me where the stuff comes from, or where it is going to. If you will give me five hundred pounds, all cash, before leaving here, I will agree to take it." The Rock-scorpion gasped "What, five hundred pounds! Capitan, now do be reasonable.
"Very well, then; I won't take another bale in, and will steam away at once." "But," said the cunning Rock-scorpion, "you have a lighter of goods aboard. You are very dreadful for talking about running away with it." "You make me sick," said the captain, with a killing look of scorn. "Capitan, you say queer things to your best friends.
The scorpion is another peril to the esparto picker. The great rock-scorpion of the Sahara is about as ugly as the centipede of Arizona and Mexico; in size it is also about as large from six to ten inches in length. Its sting, too, is about as dangerous as the fangs of the rattler. But the esparto picker has a method of heroic treatment for both the bite of the viper and the sting of the scorpion.
"Ah," said the former in genuine Rock-scorpion dialect, "The last was a great disaster; but it has never been said that you did not do all that was possible to carry out your contract properly. If there had been any appearance of not doing so, my friend and I would not have said that Captain S is the very man to carry out our new affair, which is doubly better than the other."
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