“How should I know, my general?” parried Miguel. “Who am I--a poor man with a tiny rancho--to know of the movements of the great ones of the earth? I did not even know where was the great General Pesita until now I am brought into his gracious presence, to throw myself at his feet and implore that I be permitted to serve him in even the meanest of capacities.” Pesita appeared not to hear what Miguel had said. He turned his shoulder toward the man, and addressed Billy in broken English. “You were on your way to El Orobo Rancho, eh? Are you acquainted there?” he asked. Billy replied that they were not--merely looking for employment upon an American-owned ranch or in an American mine. “Why did you leave your own country?” asked Pesita. “What do you want here in Mexico?” “Well, ol' top,” replied Billy, “you see de birds was flyin' south an' winter was in de air, an a fat-head dick from Chi was on me trail--so I ducks.” “Ducks?” queried Pesita, mystified. “Ah, the ducks--they fly south, I see.” “Naw, you poor simp--I blows,” explained Billy. “Ah, yes,” agreed Pesita, not wishing to admit any ignorance of plain American even before a despised gringo. “But the large-faced dick--what might that be? I have spend much time in the States, but I do not know that.” “I said 'fat-head dick'--dat's a fly cop,” Billy elucidated. “It is he then that is the bird.” Pesita beamed at this evidence of his own sagacity. “He fly.” “Flannagan ain't no bird--Flannagan's a dub.” Bridge came to the rescue. “My erudite friend means,” he explained, “that the police chased him out of the United States of America.” Pesita raised his eyebrows. All was now clear to him. “But why did he not say so?” he asked. “He tried to,” said Bridge. “He did his best.” “Quit yer kiddin',” admonished Billy. A bright light suddenly burst upon Pesita. He turned upon Bridge. “Your friend is not then an American?” he asked. “I guessed it. That is why I could not understand him. He speaks the language of the gringo less well even than I. From what country is he?” Billy Byrne would have asserted with some show of asperity that he was nothing if not American; but Bridge was quick to see a possible loophole for escape for his friend in Pesita's belief that Billy was no gringo, and warned the latter to silence by a quick motion of his head. “He's from 'Gran' Avenoo,'” he said. “It is not exactly in Germany; but there are a great many Germans there. My friend is a native, so he don't speak German or English either--they have a language of their own in 'Gran' Avenoo'.” “I see,” said Pesita--“a German colony. I like the Germans--they furnish me with much ammunition and rifles. They are my very good friends. Take Miguel and the gringo away”--this to the soldiers who had brought the prisoners to him--“I will speak further with this man from Granavenoo.” When the others had passed out of hearing Pesita addressed Billy.