The Texan Star: The Story of a Great Fight for LibertyAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
General
The Texan Star: The Story of a Great Fight for Liberty
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
Texas -- Fiction
"You were informed wrongly," said Obed. "The man who escaped was short
and fat, and he had yellow hair. The boy was very dark with black hair
and black eyes. But the statement that they were drowned in the bay is
correct."
"One might get five hundred good silver pesos for bringing in their
bodies."
"One might, but one won't, and you, amigo, are just concluding an
excellent bargain. You get this fine, unloaded musket, and we get the
food and the serapes for which we have so courteously asked. The entire
bargain will be completed inside of two minutes."
The blue eyes and the black eyes met again and the owner of each pair
understood.
"It is so," said the Mexican, evenly, and he brought what they wished.
"Good-day, amigo," said Obed politely. "I will repeat that the musket is
unloaded, and you cannot find ammunition for it any nearer than Vera
Cruz, which will not trouble you as you are here at home in your
castle. But our pistols are loaded, and it is a necessary fact for my
young friend and myself. We purpose to travel in the hills, where there
is great danger of brigands. Fortunately for us we are both able and
willing to shoot well. Once more, farewell."
"Farewell," said the Mexican, waving his hand in dignified salute.
"That fellow is no fool," said Obed, as they strode away. "I like a man
who can take a hint. A word to the wise is like a stitch in time."
"Will he follow us?"
"Not he. He has that musket which he craved, and at half its value. He
does not desire wounds and perhaps death. The chances are ninety-nine
out of a hundred that he will never say a word for fear his government
will seize his musket."
"And now for the wildest country that we can find," said Ned. "I'm glad
it doesn't rain much down here. We can sleep almost anywhere, wrapped in
our serapes."
They ate as they walked and they kept on a long time after sunset,
picking their way by the moonlight. Two or three times they passed peons
in the path, but their bold bearing and the pistols in their belts
always gave them the road. Brigands flourished amid the frequent
revolutions, and the humbler Mexicans found it wise to attend strictly
to their own business. They slept again in the open, but this time on a
hill in a dense thicket. They had previously drunk at a spring at its
base, and lacking now for neither food nor water they felt hope rising
continually.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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