That's a good hundred mile acrost the
border. It's in a valley in them mountains," he added, pointing to the
darkening southern horizon.
"And who is this Don?"
"Waal," drawled Gabby Pete, plaintively, "I stick to hum so much o'
the time I never git to talk to nobody nor hear the noos. But seems to
me I did hear onct about him. Yes, sir, somebody sez as how Don
Fernandez lives in a palace in that wilderness jest like a king of
old, with armed ree-strainers or whatever you calls 'em----"
"Retainers, Pete," said Jack, suppressing a smile.
"Yes, that's the word. An' this feller what tol' me sez as how he's
very proud and haughty-like an' has a beyootiful daughter,
an'----an'----"
Pete dropped his voice, and paused, eyeing Remedios, the Mexican in
the nearby flivver.
"Think he kin hear me," he whispered.
"Guess not," said Jack. "Why?" He, too, looked toward Remedios. The
latter had his back to them and was blowing indolent wreaths of smoke
from a brown paper cigarette.
"I don't trust that feller, that's all," whispered Gabby Pete
hoarsely. "He's down acrost the border too much o' the time. Anyhow,
as I was sayin', this yere Don Fernandez is agin the Obregon gov'ment
an' backin' a new revolution.
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