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Amelia Besley, 67 years old, 2010 Pierpont Street, Mount Winans, Baltimore, Maryland. His brother, Marcellus Williams, and a single sister, Amelia Williams, both living, reside on Rubio street, Philidelphia, Pa. According to "Parson" Williams, they are both more than a century old and are in fairly good health.
After a while the engineer, pointing, said: "The line of the Southwestern and Continental must follow the base of those hills away over there is that right, Texas?" "That'll be about it," the driver answered. "I hear you're goin' through San Antonio Pass, an' that's to the north. Rubio City lies about here " he pointed a little south of east.
They thought only of the possibility of converting the thousands of acres of The King's Basin Desert into productive farms. For this they conceived to be their work. They had worked across the Basin to Lone Mountain and back to the river to a point nearly opposite the clump of cotton woods where they had left the expedition. To-morrow night they would be in Rubio City.
The soft, slow drawl of the other answered: "Sure. That there is No Man's Mountains ahead." "No Man's, is ut; an' ut looks that same. Where did ye say ye was thryin' to go?" "We're headed for Rubio City. This here is the old San Felipe trail." "Uh-huh! So we're goin' to Rubio City, are we? For all I know that may as well be nowhere at all. Well, well, ut's news av intherest to me.
But the Jefferson Worth who rode back to camp with his friends, there to be greeted and congratulated by the party, was not the same Jefferson Worth who had left camp the morning before, though no one congratulated him because of that. It was three weeks later when a portly, well-fed gentleman entered the Pioneer Bank in Rubio City and asked of the teller: "Is Mr. Worth in?"
They would then follow the river on the Basin side to Rubio City. They had barely passed beyond sight of the main party when Jose turned directly toward the river. At that stage of water a long bar put out into the stream and from its point the current set strongly toward the opposite bank. "Here we cross," said the Indian briefly.
They remained, all three, in a state of suspended animation, but at last El Rubio hissed through his teeth with vexation, and grunted: "Attention, José. Take aim. We will break his legs and take away the sting of this old scorpion."
The Seer's expedition, returning from the south, made camp on the bank of the Rio Colorado twenty miles below Rubio City. It was the last night out. Supper was over and the men, with their pipes and cigarettes, settled themselves in various careless attitudes of repose after the long day.
All were strong, clean-cut, vigorous specimens of intelligent, healthy manhood, for in all the professions, not excepting the army and navy, there can be found no finer body of men than our civil engineers. Easily they fell to talking of to-morrow night in Rubio City, of baths and barbers and good beds and clean clothes and dinners and the pleasures of civilization and prospective future jobs.
They consisted of the majordomo of Perez, a page in his household, the page's brother from the country, an ex-scullion from the royal kitchens, Juan Rubio by name, who had been the unsuccessful agent in the poisoning scheme, together with two professional bravos, hired for the occasion.
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