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"I listened till I had my fill," and returned the favor, as best I could, by hoping that the little wayfarer's lightsome mood would not fail him, all the way to Guatemala and back again. Exactly a month before this, and not far from the same spot, I had stood for some minutes to enjoy the "recital" of the solitary's saucy cousin, the white-eye.
"Nobody that ever got a good look at you would say so," asserted White-Eye. He paused at the head of the stairs. "I aim to find out what The Spider wanted up here." "Go to it!" and Pino grinned. As they entered the "office," Baxter was talking with his partner, with whom he exchanged a significant glance as he realized who his visitors were.
"Let's go git a drink and then we'll have a talk with Pony. Come on, Steve." They turned and drifted on up the street. Presently they were back at the stairway entrance. "Pony won't stand for no rough stuff," advised White-Eye as they turned and climbed the stair. "I'll do the talkin'." "I reckon he'll stand for anything we hand him," said Pino. "Fancy clothes don't cut any figure with me."
Of the common birds of the plains of Madras, the only ones that are really abundant on the Nilgiris are the black crow, the sparrow, the white-eye, the Madras bulbul, the myna, the purple sunbird, the tailor-bird, the ashy wren-warbler, the rufous-backed shrike, the white-browed fantail flycatcher, the Indian pipit, the Indian skylark, the common kingfisher, the pied crested cuckoo, the scavenger vulture, the Pondicherry vulture, the white-backed vulture, the shikra, the spotted dove, and the little brown dove.
Even at that time, although the woods were swarming with birds, many of them travelers from the North, this white-eye was nearly the only one still in song. It occurred to me that possibly it is our fault, and not that of Rhus venenata, when we suffer from the touch of that graceful shrub.
White-Eye and Longtree were standing near a player at the faro table, evidently interested for the moment in the play. Near White-Eye, Pino was rolling a cigarette. Beyond them, at the next table, stood a man with a deformed shoulder and The Spider recognized Gary of the T-Bar-T, watching the few players at the wheel. . . . A film of cigar smoke eddied round the lamps above the tables.
"Oh, Jim? Why, he dropped in to shake hands. I hadn't seen him for several years. Didn't know he was in town." "Feed that soft stuff to the yearlins'," snarled White-Eye. "The Spider ain't chousin' around El Paso for his health, or yours." Baxter was about to say something when Pino stooped and picked up the pieces of paper which The Spider had torn in two just before he left.
Forbes could catch an occasional word, such as "The Spider El Paso White-Eye Hospital Sonora Sanborn Sam Brent " Pete turned and grinned. "I reckon you can let go the your holt, Doc. This here is a friend of mine." Forbes sighed thankfully. He was introduced to the friend, whom Pete called Ed, but whose name had been suddenly changed to Bill. "We used to ride together," explained Pete.
"You dropped your cigarette." One of the roulette players giggled hysterically. At the sound of that laugh, White-Eye jerked Pino in front of him. The Spider's gun appeared as though he had caught it from the air. As it roared, Pino staggered sideways and fell. White-Eye fired as The Spider, throwing shot after shot, walked slowly toward him.
The partner excused himself and stepped into the room beyond. "Well, boys, what can I do for you?" Baxter's manner was suavely affable. "We're lookin' for a friend," declared White-Eye. "I don't think he's here." And Baxter smiled his professional smile. "But he's been here," asserted White-Eye. "We ain't here to make a noise. We jest want to know what The Spider was doin' up here a spell ago."
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