Arthur O. Friel

“ Half the time these guys down here don't frisk a feller clean; they take off his outside artillery and think they got it all. And betwixt this misplaced switch and this masked battery—Pablo, how would you like to be Jefe Gordo?”
The gun darted to an aim, gaping straight at Pablo's right eye. And that valiant warrior, who had understood only the last few words, arose with a wild yell.
“Dios mio! Do not shoot! Put away the gun, señor! Have mercy! I am a poor—”
“Aw, shut up!” Kelly scowled fiercely, sliding the weapon again within his shirt. ”

“ So I could only speak as I did, Señor Toro, telling you the others would come soon; but I was watching for my chance to give you a signal or to seize that murderous peon and shout to you the truth. And then, caramba, we should have made these sons of dogs run howling to the wilderness! But all at once—pamt you fell, and—pam!—something struck me also, and I knew nothing. Nothing, amigos, until I came awake and saw where we are now—in this horrible jail. Ah, diablo, my head! ”

“ Sí! He is that kind of man, señores; he now would murder his own father if he thought it would please the higher officials. A fawning slave of the government, he is. So the government made him jefe civil at Mapire, and later he was sent here. Cra! We are lucky to be still living!”
HART and Kelly glanced again at each other. This part, at least, of Pablo's yarn rang true. Both had heard of the rebel leader Veinte Cuatro, who was so called for two reasons; because he was big, black-eyed, and fierce in attack, thus bearing some resemblance to the huge black veinte cuatro ant ”