eBooks Base 2000

Westcott ate
heartily, without pausing to talk.
"You hear yet Senor Cavendish?" Jose asked at last.
"No." Westcott hesitated an instant, but decided not to explain
further. "He must be away, I think."
"What you do if you no hear at all?"
"We'll go on with the digging ourselves, Jose. It'll pay wages until I
can interest capital somewhere to come in on shares."
"You no sell Lacy then?"
"Sell Lacy! Not in a thousand years. What put that in your head?"
The Mexican rubbed the back of his pate.
"You know Senor Moore--no hair so?" an expressive gesture.
"Sure; what about him?"
"He meet me at the spring; he come up the trail from Haskell on
horseback with another man not belong 'round here."
"What did he look like--big, red-faced fellow, with checked suit and
round hat?"
"_Si, senor_; he say to Moore, 'Why the hell you talk that damn
greaser,' an' Moore laugh, an' say because I work for Senor Westcott."
"But what was it Moore said to you, Jose?"
"He cussed me first, an' when I wouldn't move, he swore that Lacy would
own this whole hill before thirty days.


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