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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Si, Señor Capitan, and because you didn't get your man." The collector of customs stood with his cigar carefully poised in his left hand. The assistant pushed back his hat and rumpled his black hair. All official significance set aside, Waring and the captain of rurales faced each other with the blunt challenge between them: "You didn't get your man!"
Taking it for granted that these were the brigands following us up, although, as I afterwards discovered, they were in fact rurales or cavalry-police, despite the remonstrances of Antonio I urged the jaded mules forward at a gallop. Thereupon the rurales, who had pulled up at a spot marked by a white stone, turned and rode away.
He has gone back to the horses of those who follow us." "You said it" said Waring. "And that's going to bother them. It tells me that the rurales are not far behind. They'll figure that I put you out of business to get rid of you. They'll look for a dead Mexican, and a live gringo riding north, alone. But they're too wise to ride up here. They'll trail up afoot and out of sight.
But don't let me keep you from breakfast." "Breakfast, eh? That's right! I almost forgot it, talkin' to you. Collie's got the coffee to boilin'. No, you ain't keepin' us from our breakfast any that you'd notice. It would take a whole reg'ment of Rurales to keep us from a breakfast if we seen one runnin' around loose without its pa or ma." Louise Lacharme did not smile. This was too real.
I threw a cigar at the toreador. It was no good, but the toreador was a king. Good-night, compadre the blind, who begs." Again: "If I knew where it was I'd take a real. Carambo! No, I wouldn't. I'll ask him. I'll give him the new sword-stick that my cousin the Rurales gave me. He doesn't need it now he's not a bandit. I'm stuffed, and my head swims. It's the pulque. Sabe Dios!"
"We have tried your plan, but one must be rich to buy the votes. Besides, if one is beaten at the polls, there remains the last appeal to the knife. But you will let this go. We have something else to talk about." "That is so," said Kit. "To begin with, I must thank you for sending your rurales to look after me." "It is nothing," Alvarez replied in a deprecatory tone.
"Down the street and coming," said Waring, as the rurales boiled from the cantina. "We'll meet 'em halfway," said the collector. And midway between the custom-house and the cantina the two cool-eyed, deliberate men of the North faced the hot-blooded Southern haste that demanded Waring as prisoner. The collector, addressing the leader of the rurales, suggested that they talk it over in the cantina.
Sherry and I, to reassure him, put a few reals into his hand not without an object, for I asked Sherry to make him talk on. A policeman sauntered near with his large lantern a superior sort of Dogberry, but very young, as are most of the policemen in Mexico, save the Rurales, that splendid company of highwaymen whom Diaz bought over from being bandits to be the guardians of the peace.
He kept his reputation sprouting new shoots right along and that ain't all joke, neither." "Speakin' in general, could he beat you to it with a gun, Pat?" "Speaking in general I reckon he could." "Them rurales are kind of careless ridin' over the line and not stoppin' by to make a little explanation." The lank man nodded. "There's a time coming when they'll do more than that.
Alone, the gunman would have ridden swiftly to the hill country, where his trail would have been lost in the rocky ground of the ranges and where he would have had the advantage of an unobstructed outlook from the high trails. Ramon had said the rurales had entrained; were ahead of him to intercept him.
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