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I swear I will!" he screamed, his words reaching a high falsetto. Lopez rose. "I would look at you once before I shoot," he said slowly, and took in the other's cringing form. "What?" Pell said. Disgust was on the features of the bandit contempt and unbelievable loathing. "I 'ave met mans which would not fight for zeir money," he said with great deliberation, his lip curled.
This was too much for Hardy for any man with a spark of manhood left in him. "I am not!" he denied. "I'm a business man." "You are a loan fish," the bandit pressed. "A what?" "A loan fish! You loan money. And when ze people cannot pay, you convict zem and take zeir ranchos." The lean, sharklike Hardy looked a little depressed at this accusation.
The quack reached into his bosom, drew forth a pistol, pointed it at the right eye of the gypsy, and said: "Look into the mouth of that and tell me whether you see a bullet lying in its throat!" "I zink zat ze señor an' heez piztol are boz lying in zeir zroats," he answered with easy irony. "Good! But I am not here to match wits with you. I want that horse, and lie or no lie, I will have it.
"I 'ave met mans which would not fight for zeir lives. But I 'ave never before met ze man which would not fight for 'is woman." Pell saw that he was doomed now. He made one final desperate attempt. "But if you shoot me you'll be hanged!" "Ha!" laughed Lopez. "If I am ever caught, I shall be 'anged many times!" "I'm an American citizen!" shrilled Pell.
"Knittin'-needles," said the sailor. "Them ain't no knittin'-needles. Writin'? How could them be writin'? Well, I heard tell once," replied the other. "It ees zeir way of writing," said the Frenchman; "I 'ave seen; zat is zeir way of writing; ze knots is zeir letters." "Bleedin' funny letters, I call 'em," said the needles-theorist. "You and your needles," said the other.
"Well, if they can't pay, it isn't my fault," was all he could say. "It isn't zeir fault, too, is it?" Lopez was curious to know. "What's that?" Hardy said. "So you take ze rancho from my friend, Señor Jones. A nice sort of neighbor you are, you beeg fish!" "I'm not to blame because he's a rotten business man, am I?" Hardy tried to set himself right. Lopez looked at him scornfully.
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