further. "He must be away, I think."

"What you do if you no hear at all?"

"We'll go on with the digging ourselves, José. It'll pay wages until I
can interest capital somewhere to come in on shares."

"You no sell Lacy then?"

"Sell Lacy! Not in a thousand years. What put that in your head?"

The Mexican rubbed the back of his pate.

"You know Señor Moore--no hair so?" an expressive gesture.

"Sure; what about him?"

"He meet me at the spring; he come up the trail from Haskell on
horseback with another man not belong 'round here."

"What did he look like--big, red-faced fellow, with checked suit and
round hat?"

"_Si, señor_; he say to Moore, 'Why the hell you talk that damn
greaser,' an' Moore laugh, an' say because I work for Señor Westcott."

"But what was it Moore said to you, José?"

"He cussed me first, an' when I wouldn't move, he swore that Lacy would
own this whole hill before thirty days."