"You can say what you please," the prospector ended, "but I'm going to keep out of that country. I've knowed them Mexicans for thirty years now and I'm telling you they're gitting treacherous. It don't do no good to have your gun with you--they'll shoot you from behind a rock--and if they can't git you that way, they'll knife you in your sleep. "I've noticed a big change in them _paisanos_ since this war come on. Before Madero made his break they used to be scared of Americans--thought if they killed one of us the rest would cross the border and eat 'em up. What few times they did tackle a white man he generally give a good account of himself, too, and I've traveled them trails for years without hardly knowing what it was to be afraid of anybody; but I tell you it's entirely different over there now." "Sure! That's right!" spoke up the little man, with spirit. "You're talking more sense than any man on the street. I guess I ought to know--I've been down there and through it all--and it's got so now that you can't trust _any_ of 'em. My pardner and I came clear from the Sierra Madres, riding nights, and we come pretty near knowing--hey, Bud?" "That's right," observed Bud, the big man, with a reminiscent grin. "I begin to think them fellers would get us, for a while!" "Mining men?" inquired the old prospector politely. "Working on a lease," said the little man briefly. "Owner got scared out and let us in on shares. But no more for muh--this will hold me for quite a while, I can tell you!" "Here, too," agreed the big man, turning to go. "Arizona is good enough for me--come on, Phil!" "Where to?" The little man drew back half resentfully, and then he changed his mind. "All right," he said, falling into step, "a gin fizz for mine!" "Not on an empty stomach," admonished his pardner; "you might get lit up and tell somebody all you know. How about something to eat?" "Good! But where're you going?" The big man was leading off down a side street, and once more they came to a halt. "Jim's place--it's a lunch-counter," he explained laconically. "The hotel's all right, and maybe that was a breakfast we got, but I get hungry waiting that way. Gimme a lunch-counter, where I can wrop my legs around a stool and watch the cook turn 'em over. Come on--I been there before." An expression of pitying tolerance came over the little man's face as he listened to this rhapsody on the quick lunch, but he drew away reluctantly. "Aw, come on, Bud," he pleaded. "Have a little class! What's the use of winning a stake if you've got to eat at a dog-joint? And besides--say, that was a peach of a girl that waited on us this morning! Did you notice her hair? She was a pippin! I left four-bits under my plate!" The big man waggled his hand resignedly and started on his way. "All right, pardner," he observed; "if that's the deal she's probably looking for you. I'll meet you in the room."