"How can I know when he comes?" asked Sandridge. "When he comes," said Tonia, "he remains two days, sometimes three. Gregorio, the small son of old Luisa, the _lavendera_ [74], has a swift pony. I will write a letter to thee and send it by him, saying how it will be best to come upon him. By Gregorio will the letter come. And bring many men with thee, and have much care, oh, dear red one, for the rattlesnake is not quicker to strike than is '_El Chivato_,' [75] as they call him, to send a ball from his _pistola_." [FOOTNOTE 74: lavendera--(Spanish) laundress, washerwoman] [FOOTNOTE 75: El Chivato--(Spanish) literally translated as The Sneak or The Informer but more likely meaning The Villain or The Evil One. This was one of the nicknames of Billy the Kid.] "The Kid's handy with his gun, sure enough," admitted Sandridge, "but when I come for him I shall come alone. I'll get him by myself or not at all. The Cap wrote one or two things to me that make me want to do the trick without any help. You let me know when Mr. Kid arrives, and I'll do the rest." "I will send you the message by the boy Gregorio," said the girl. "I knew you were braver than that small slayer of men who never smiles. How could I ever have thought I cared for him?" It was time for the ranger to ride back to his camp on the water hole. Before he mounted his horse he raised the slight form of Tonia with one arm high from the earth for a parting salute. The drowsy stillness of the torpid summer air still lay thick upon the dreaming afternoon. The smoke from the fire in the _jacal_, where the _frijoles_ [76] blubbered in the iron pot, rose straight as a plumb-line above the clay-daubed chimney. No sound or movement disturbed the serenity of the dense pear thicket ten yards away. [FOOTNOTE 76: frijoles--(Spanish) beans, usually cooked a long time until very soft, with various seasonings added] When the form of Sandridge had disappeared, loping his big dun down the steep banks of the Frio crossing, the Kid crept back to his own horse, mounted him, and rode back along the tortuous trail he had come. But not far. He stopped and waited in the silent depths of the pear until half an hour had passed. And then Tonia heard the high, untrue notes of his unmusical singing coming nearer and nearer; and she ran to the edge of the pear to meet him. The Kid seldom smiled; but he smiled and waved his hat when he saw her. He dismounted, and his girl sprang into his arms. The Kid looked at her fondly. His thick, black hair clung to his head like a wrinkled mat. The meeting brought a slight ripple of some undercurrent of feeling to his smooth, dark face that was usually as motionless as a clay mask. "How's my girl?" he asked, holding her close.