gettin' a drink." Which would close the monologue.

One morning early, Felipe, asleep on a bed
that never was made up, heard suspicious sounds
in the corral outside. He sprang up and, clad
only in a fiery-red undershirt, hurried to a window.
Cautiously letting down the bars, with a rope already
tied around the colt's neck, was the mountain
Shylock, Pedro Garcia, intent upon leading
off the innocent new-comer. Pedro no doubt had
perceived an opportunity either to force Felipe
to meet some of his debts, or else hold the colt as
a very acceptable chattel. Also, he evidently
had calculated upon early dawn as the time best
suited to do this thing, in view of Felipe's long
debauch upon unpaid-for wine. At any rate,
there he was, craftily letting down the bars.
Raging with indignation and a natural venom
which he felt toward the storekeeper, Felipe flung
up the window.

"_Buenos_dias,_senor!_" he greeted, cheerfully,
with effort controlling his anger. "Thee early
worm he's takin' thee _potrillo_! How cooms thot,
_senor_?" he asked, enjoying the other's sudden
discomfiture. "You takin' thot li'l' horse for
thee walk -- thee exercise?" And then, without
waiting for a reply, had there been one forthcoming,
which there was not, he slammed down
the window, leaped to the door, flung it open--
all levity now gone from him. "Pedro Garcia!"
he raged. "You thief and robber! I'm killin'
you thees time sure!" And, regardless of his scant

[[24]]

p023 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p024w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p025

v?