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Updated: May 24, 2025
At his exclamation Carmena gave him a sombre glance. "You see now?" "A still," he said. "This tizwin you've been talking about it's moonshine whiskey. Your father " "No Slade!" broke in the girl with passionate emphasis. "He brought the thing into the Hole and forced Dad to run it. He's the one to blame not Dad. He bootlegs it to the Indians." "Indians? That's a Federal penitentiary offense!"
Probably owing to his ready advance, he was not again bound, though Cochise ordered a pair of his followers to guard the white man. The other Apaches pressed close after the leaders, drawn by their fierce craving for tizwin. Regardless of Lennon's look of loathing, Carmena lighted a candle and led the way direct to the mummy room.
"That would make Cochise feel better." To the vast surprise of Lennon Carmena took this preposterous proposal seriously. "All right, Blossom. But not a drop of tizwin, mind. This way, Jack." The doorway opened into a large living-room, homelike with bright-hued Navaho rugs, a quantity of cliff-dweller pottery, and a sufficiency of heavy, comfortable furniture hewn out of cedar.
They had left him lax and shaken and rather muddled. He had been given his fill for one night. Carmena's reproaches disarmed his suspicion that she and Lennon knew what he had been about. His guilty anger at the two subsided into derision of their blindness. "Well, what if I did git tanked up?" he growled. "It's my tizwin as much as Dad's, ain't it? I'm going back to bed to sleep it off."
The tense listener expelled his pent-up breath in a grunt of disgust. "Huh! Must 'a' been the tizwin. Fools a man." Lennon straightened up and again groped with his hand as he heard Slade shuffle on along the passage. There was need of utmost caution. He did not wish to shoot. But he knew that the grip of Slade's thick arms would be as dangerous as the hug of a grizzly.
Cochise, you'll have to choose quickly. Run off with us and have your fun, and have Slade trail you down; or kill him and get your woman and the tizwin barrels of tizwin!" The young Apache plucked out his knife and sprang at the girl. A stroke slashed through the thongs that bound her wrists. Her ankles had already been freed. Cochise made a sharp upward gesture.
Slade sells what the bunch maverick and brand-blot." The terms brought no enlightenment to Lennon. He was from the Atlantic coast. "You mean they deal in cattle?" he inquired. "Cattle and horses and tizwin," added Elsie, screwing up her luscious little mouth over the last word as if it had a bad taste. Lennon caught a half glimmer of the truth. But the girl's thoughts had flitted butterfly-fashion
"Oh, Dad just nibbles when he has his tizwin spells, and Mena ate hers mid-morning." The table top had been scrubbed. Lennon sat down at the nearest corner and fell to on the omelette and fried chicken, cream cheese, salad, cornbread and honey that she set before him. The food was all served in bowls and jugs of quaintly beautiful ancient cliff-dweller pottery.
You'll treat me and Jack, my new pard, all right when I've helped you kill Slade." "Dam' friend you," jeered the Indian. "You kept my woman." "What if I did? How about now? Do you want Slade to have her? You know he has been scheming all along to take her from you. Are you going to let him do it? Think about her and about the tizwin that tizwin hidden from you by Slade barrels of tizwin!
It's your only chance to get me, so long as you daren't tackle Slade yourself." "Slade, him big devil. Injun no can " "Just wait and see," broke in Carmena. "Remember, there'll be tizwin for you all you can drink heaps of tizwin!" "Ugh!" grunted Pete. "Slade no come. Bueno me do him you say."
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