"Where's Rafael?" demanded Roldan.
"Tucked in his little warm bed with a warmer hide, I guess. The old man
caught us in the very act of horse stealin'. Holy smoke, but he did
cuss. I ain't got no pride in Yankee cussin' left."
"What did Rafael tell him?" interrupted Roldan, eagerly.
"He told him as how he had made up his mind to go home with you for a
little paseo--"
"Did he say nothing about the priest?"
"Nothin'. Never opened his head about the priest--"
"When I'm governor I'll reward him," said Roldan, warmly.
"When you're President of the United States you might make him Secretary
of State--"
"But the horses? the horses?"
"They're tethered just over the mountain. I suspicioned the priest might
be here, seein' as you were expectin' him, more or less."
"Did Don Tiburcio say about me--us--what you told the priest?"
"He did, and more of it. He was as mad as a bear with a sore head. You
see, he hadn't had no peace of mind for some hours, and as for the old
lady I believe she's been havin' high strikes regular since breakfast.
Now, I'm hospitable, but my advice to you is to git. Like as not the
priest'll see old Carriller to-morrow, and then the cat'll come out.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191