narrow side street, and pulled up at a water-trough.
As he dropped the reins and prepared
to descend, a friend of his -- and he had many--
hailed him from the sidewalk. Hastily clambering
down, he seized the man's arm in forceful greeting,
and indicated with a jerk of his head a near-by
saloon.

"We go gettin' soomt'ing," he invited. "I
have munch good luck to tell you."

Inside the establishment Felipe became loquacious
and boasting. He now was a man of
comfortable wealth, he gravely informed his friend
-- a wizened individual with piercing eyes. Besides
winning a bet of fifteen dollars in money, he
explained, he also held a note against Franke
Gamboa for fifty dollars more on his property.
But that was not all. Aside from the note and
the cash in hand, he was the owner of a colt now
of great value -- _si_ -- worth at least ten dollars--
which, added to the other, made him, as anybody
could see, worthy of recognition. With this he
placed his empty glass down on the bar and swung
over into English.

"You haf hear about thot?" he asked, drawing
the back of his hand across his mouth. Then, as
the other shook his head negatively, "Well, I
haf new one -- _potrillo_ -- nice li'l' horse -- _si_!" He
cleared his throat and frowned at the listening
bartender. "He's comin' couple days before, oop
on thee mesa." He picked up the glass, noted that
it was empty, placed it down again. "I'm sellin'
thot _potrillo_ quick," he went on -- "bet you' life!

[[33]]

p032 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p033w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p034

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