Pell saw that he was doomed now. He made one final desperate attempt. "But
if you--shoot me--you'll be hanged!"
"Ha!" laughed Lopez. "If I am ever caught, I shall be 'anged many times!"
"I'm an American citizen!" shrilled Pell.
"I 'ave kill many American citizens," replied Lopez, without the slightest
compunction.
Pell wrung his hands. "My Goverment will pursue you!"
"You are mistaken. Your Government will watchfully wait. We kill American
citizen. Your Government write us beautiful letter about it.... But we have
waste time!" He drew his gun.
As Lopez leveled the weapon. Pell all but dropped on his knees. "Wait!" he
cried. "I'll give you money! Plenty of money! A million dollars! Yes, two
million!" It could not be that so shameful a fate was to be his.
"It is not zat we want money," the bandit replied. "It is zat we _don't_
want _you_."
Terror seized poor Pell. "But for God's sake," he wailed, "you wouldn't do
that! You couldn't! Without even a chance for my life. At least fight me
fair!" His voice seemed far away to him--like the voice of another being
from a distant world.
"Fair?" Lopez rolled the word over.
"Give me a gun, too!" the fool prayed.
"Give you a gun! Pedro!" The man had evidently been just outside the door,
and came in at once. "Pedro, you 'ear?" And Pedro grinned.
"Yes! Give me a chance!"
"I shall never understand ze American idea. I give you a gun, you say?"
"Yes! That's the least you can do!" Pell was weeping now.
"But if I should give you a gun, you might shoot me wiz it!" Lopez laughed.
"You won't?"
"I am no damn fool!" the bandit cried. And he deliberately raised his gun
again.
"You're not going to kill me? No! for the love of God, don't!" He plunged
forward, groveling at Lopez's feet. A woman in a melodrama could not have
begged harder for mercy. "Spare me!" were the words that fell from his
pitiful lips. "For God's sake, spare me! I'll do anything! Go anywhere! He
can have her! You can have her! Her, and all the money I've got, if only
you'll spare my life!"
The bandit looked down in utter disgust at the cringing form. Never had he
seen anything in the world that he detested more. Pell's fingers were on
the bandit's boots.
"I did not know zat even a dog could be so yellow," he said. Then he
turned to Pedro. "I do not 'unt rabbits. You kill 'im, Pedro." And he would
not look again on the miserable specimen of a man that wallowed there on
the floor.
"Ah! for the love of God!" came from Pell, who had half risen. At that
instant Pedro shot from his hip at the debased creature. The form stiffened
and collapsed like a bag, falling partially under the table.
"It is a good deed," said Lopez, turning. "He was evil man."
The shot had been heard without. "Red," Gilbert, Hardy, and a few Mexicans
rushed in at the sound.
"Who shot?" cried the former.
"Pedro," said Lopez.
"But what was he shooting at?" "Red" asked.
Lopez smiled. "Only ze 'usband."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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