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The sun was so low that the gentlest elevation cast its grey shadow miles into the green-gold sea of sunshine. That evening ears were quicker than eyes. The Mexican held up a tawny finger to still the scraping of tin against tin. "One waggeen," said he, "cross dthe Arroyo Hondo. Ah hear dthe wheel. Verree rockee place, dthe Hondo." "You've got good ears, Gregorio," said Mustang Taylor.
The sun was so low that the gentlest elevation cast its grey shadow miles into the green-gold sea of sunshine. That evening ears were quicker than eyes. The Mexican held up a tawny finger to still the scraping of tin against tin. "One waggeen," said he, "cross dthe Arroyo Hondo. Ah hear dthe wheel. Verree rockee place, dthe Hondo." "You've got good ears, Gregorio," said Mustang Taylor.
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