hrowed it at Tige--and he come mighty nigh
makin' dawg-meat outa him, too. Slit his ear, it come that close.
Tige ain't got no likin' fer greasers sence then. He thought you was
another bunch--and so did I. Mary, she put inside after Jemimy and the
twins.

"Know anything about them greasers? I see yuh got a sample along. T'
other crowd was headed by a slim feller all tricked up in velvet
and silver braid and red sash; called himself Don Jose Pacheco, and
claimed to own all Ameriky from the ocean over there, back to the
Allegheny Mountains, near as I could make out. I don't talk that kinda
talk much; but I been thinkin' mebby I better get m' tongue split, so
I can. Might come handy, some time; only Tige, he hates the sound of
it like he hates porkypines--or badgers.

"Mary and me and Tige laid up in Los Angeles fer a spell, resting
the cattle. All greasers, down there--and fleas--and take the two
t'gether, they jest about wore out the hull kit and b'ilin' of us.

"What's pesterin' the ole feller? Pears like he's gittin' his tongue
twisted up ready to talk--if they call it talkin'."

"What is the hombre saying?--" asked the don at that moment, seeing
the glance and sensing that at last his presence was noticed.

Dade grinned and winked at Jack, who, by the way, was neither looking
nor listening; for Teresita was once more tenderly ridiculing his
star-incrusted saddle and so claimed his whole attention.

"He says Jose Pacheco and some others came and ordered him off. They
were pretty ugly, but he called out a lady--the Senora Jemima and dos
ninos--and--"

"Sa-ay, mister," interrupted the giant Jerry Simpson from the load of
logs. "D'you say Senory Jemimy?"

"Why, yes. Senora means madame, or--"

"Ya'as, I know what it means. Jemimy, mister, ain't no senory, nor no
madame. Jemimy's my old Kentucky rifle, mister. And the twins ain't no
neenos, but a brace uh pistols that can shoot fur as it's respectable
fer a pistol to shoot, and hit all it's lawful to hit. You tell him
who Jemimy is, mister; and tell 'im she's a derned good talker, and
most convincin' in a argyment."

"He says Jemima is not a senora," translated Dade, his eyes twinkling,
"but his rifle; and the ninos are his pistols."

Don Andres hid a smile under his white mustache. "Very good. Yet I
think your language must lack expression, Senor Hunter. It required
much speech to say so little." There was a twinkle in his own eyes.
"Also, Jose acts like a