Captain Bill was satisfied with the game as it stood, and set out for his hotel. He was not to arrive there, however, without further complications. The commotion of the foot-race had aroused a squad of police-a poor lot, in greasy white uniforms—and these bore down upon him now with a good deal of excited talk and gesticulation, none of which he understood. Apparently they thought he was a bloodthirsty person, who was in the habit of knocking men over the head with his gun and chasing others into stone walls, for amusement. He explained in the best Texan he could muster that the men had been trying to rob him, but it was no use. They insisted by signs that he must come with them. When he shook his head in refusal, they began reaching for their long revolvers, which they wore in clumsy holsters.
Captain Bill knew this game, also. He had played it in No-man's Land, in the Cherokee Strip, and he was still playing it in the Pan-handle. It was his favorite and daily occupation. Before their guns were half way to any effective position, he had them covered, and in tones that are universally understood, even when they convey words of strange meaning, he warned them to desist.
Men are in the habit of obeying Bill McDonald under such conditions. The Mexican police obeyed him, and when he indicated that they were to march in front of him, they did so in a formation at once orderly and well-maintained. He directed them toward the Hotel Guadaola, where he was stopping. Arriving there, he explained to the guard, who understood English, what had happened, and instructed him to convey the information to the police, with his thanks for their courteous and prompt attention, and a request that they should meet him at the office of President Diaz at ten o 'clock the following morning. The guard undertook to do this, and the police went away, dazed and muttering.
They were on hand next morning at the President's office when Captain Bill arrived. During his sojourn in the city, McDonald had come in contact a number of times with President Diaz, and a pleasant friendship had sprung up between them. Diaz, who has an excellent knowledge of English, heard the Captain's explanation now with a good deal of amusement, and after dismissing his policemen with some paternal advice, he presented Captain Bill with a pass which gave him the freedom of any portion of the city at any hour and under all circumstances.
The friendship between Diaz and Captain Bill ripened into something like intimacy now, and a few days later, the Mexican President, in discussing the nation's troubles with Guatemala, invited the Ranger Captain's opinion of the situation, and of the force in the field.
"Well, Mr. President," said Captain Bill, "I don't think much of your Mexican soldiers, but I could take a squad of Texas Rangers and go down to Guatemala and clean up that outfit down there, capture their finances and bring their Government to terms in twenty-four hours."
The Mexican President's eyes showed his approval of this scheme.
"I think a good deal of your Texan rurales," he said, "but they have killed a lot of our people, too."
Captain Bill nodded.
"Only the kind that needed killing," he said.