"Hush up, you little liar," said a voice, and I heard a
step and clanking spurs which I recognized. I had sat down on the edge
of the bed, and was rolling a cigarette as the crowd filed into the
_jacal_. A fortunate flush of anger came over me which served to steady
my voice; but I met their staring, after all, much as if I had been a
culprit and they a vigilance committee.
"Well, young fellow, explain your presence here," demanded Uncle Lance.
Had it not been for the presence of Miss Jean, I had on my tongue's
end a reply, relative to the eleventh commandment, emphasized with
sulphurous adjectives. But out of deference to the mistress of the
ranch, I controlled my anger, and, taking out of my pocket a flint,
a steel, and, a bit of _yesca,_ struck fire and leisurely lighted my
cigarette. Throwing myself back on the bed, as my employer repeated
his demand, I replied, "Ask Anita." The girl understood, and, nothing
abashed, told the story in her native tongue, continually referring to
me as _pobre Tomas_. When her disconnected narrative was concluded,
Uncle Lance turned on me, saying:--
"And this is the result of all our plans. You went into Oakville, did
you? Tom, you haven't, got as much sense as a candy frog.
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