as though waiting for him to depart. "You'll find that horse in the
corral--back of the customs office," he said.

The Mexican swung round and strode out, followed by his man.

The rurales mounted and rode down the street. The three Americans
followed a few paces behind. Opposite the office, they paused.

"Go along with 'em and see that they get the right horse," said the
collector.

The assistant hesitated.

The collector laughed. "Shake hands with Jim Waring, Jack."

When the assistant had gone, the collector turned to Waring. "That's
Jack every time. Stubborn as a tight boot, but good leather every time.
Know why he wanted to shake hands? Well, that's his way of tellin' you
he thinks you're some smooth for not pullin' a fight when it looked like
nothing else was on the bill."

Waring smiled. "I've met you before, haven't I?"

Pat pretended to ignore the question. "Say, stranger," he began with
slow emphasis, "you're makin' mighty free and familiar for a prisoner
arrested for smuggling. Mebby you're all right personal, but officially
I got a case against you. What do you know about raising cucumbers? I
got a catalogue in the office, and me and Jack has been aiming to raise
cucumbers from it for three months. I like 'em. Jack says you can't do
it down here without water every day. Now--"