“That there Natiff Son'll just about kill yuh for that,” warned Happy Jack, as mournfully as he might with laughing. “He'll knife yuh, sure.”
Andy, demanding the meaning of it all, learned all about Miguel Rapponi—from the viewpoint of the Happy Family. At least, he learned as much as it was politic to tell in the presence of the Little Doctor; and afterward, while Pink was putting the chaps back upon the willow, where Miguel had left them, he was told that they looked to him, Andy Green, for assistance.
“Oh, gosh! You don't want to depend on me, Pink,” Andy expostulated modestly. “I can't think of anything—and, besides, I've reformed. I don't know as it's any compliment to me, by gracious—being told soon as I land that I'm expected to lie to a perfect stranger.”
“You come on down to the stable and take a look at his saddle and bridle,” urged Cal. “And wait till you see him smoking and looking past you, as if you was an ornery little peak that didn't do nothing but obstruct the scenery. I've seen mean cusses—lots of 'em; and I've seen men that was stuck on themselves. But I never—”
“Come outa that 'doby,” Pink interrupted, “mud to his eyebrows, just about. And he knew darned well we headed him in there deliberate. And when I remarks it's soft going, he says: 'It is, kinda,'—just like that.” Pink managed to imitate the languid tone of Miguel very well. “Not another word outa him. Didn't even make him mad! He—”
“Tell him about the parrots, Slim,” Cal suggested soberly. But Slim only turned purple at the memory, and swore.
“Old Patsy sure has got it in for him,” Happy Jack observed. “He asked Patsy if he ever had enchiladas. Patsy won't speak to him no more. He claims Mig-u-ell insulted him. He told Mig-u-ell—”
“Enchiladas are sure fine eating,” said Andy. “I took to 'em like a she-bear to honey, down in New Mexico this winter. Your Native Son is solid there, all right.”
“Aw, gwan! He ain't solid nowhere but in the head. Maybe you'll love him to death when yuh see him—chances is you will, if you've took to eatin' dago grub.”
Andy patted Happy Jack reassuringly on the shoulder. “Don't get excited,” he soothed. “I'll put it all over the gentleman, just to show my heart's in the right place. Just this once, though; I've reformed. And I've got to have time to size him up. Where do you keep him when he ain't in the show window?” He swung into step with Pink. “I'll tell you the truth,” he confided engagingly. “Any man that'll wear chaps like he's got—even leaving out the extra finish you fellows have given 'em—had ought to be taught a lesson he'll remember. He sure must be a tough proposition, if the whole bunch of yuh have had to give him up. By gracious—”