CHAPTER XIX
Enoch Birdsall stared in amazement at the four he had admitted, despite the remembrance of the names they had whispered through the crack of the partly opened door, the light from a single candle making gargoyles of their hideously painted faces. Alonzo Webb was peering along the barrel of a newfangled Colt, his eyes mere pin-points of concentration, his breathing nearly suspended.
Hank's low, throaty laughter filled the dim building and he slapped Tom on the shoulder. "Didn't I say I could fix us up so our own mothers wouldn't know us?" he demanded.
"God help us!" said Enoch in hopelessly inadequate accents as he groped behind him for his favorite cask. He seated himself with great deliberation. "When Turley's man Allbright brought aroun' yer rifles in a packload o' hay, I knowed we'd be seein' ye soon; an' he told us plain that four Injuns had left 'em with him. But; h—l!"
Alonzo had cautiously put away the Colt and was readjusting his facial expression to suit the changed conditions. Then he suddenly leaned back against a bale of tobacco leaf, jammed an arm tightly against his mouth, and laughed until he was limp.
Zeb Houghton glared at him in offended dignity, not knowing just what to say, but determined to say something. He felt embarrassed and slightly huffed. "Caravan have airy trouble arter we left it?" he asked.
"Trouble?" queried Enoch, a wise grin wreathing his face. "Some o' us made more profits this year than we ever did afore. Soon's we found thar warn't no custom guard ter meet us at Cold Spring, thanks ter them Texans, we sent some riders ahead from th' ford o' th' Canadian, an' Woodson held th' caravan thar in camp fer a couple o' days. Them greaser rancheros air half starved 'most all year 'round an' they jumped at th' chance ter earn some good U.S. gold. Some o' us had quite some visitors one night an' some o' th' waggins, ourn among 'em, shore strayed away from th' encampment an' got lost in th' hills. He had said somethin' 'bout not wantin' to waste so much time, an' o' takin' a short-cut; an' everybody war so excited about bein' so clost ter Santer Fe, an' by this time used ter folks goin' on ahead, that we warn't hardly missed. Them that did miss us soon forgot it. We're ahead five hundred dollars a waggin, besides th' other imposts an' th' salve money; our waggins air waitin' fer us when we go back, an' our goods air comin' in from th' ranchos in carretas an' by pack mule, under hay, hoja an' faggots, an' other stuff. Thar's them two axles o' Joe Cooper's that he war so anxious about back at th' Grove an' at every stream we had ter cross. Thar empty now, but thar war plumb full o' high-class contraband when they got here. Woodson slung 'em under one o' his waggins that come through on th' reg'lar trail, an' brought 'em in. Over thar's what's left o' your stuff."
"Have you fellers looked in a glass yit?" demanded Alonzo, taking a mirror from the wall. "Hyar, Boyd, whichever ye air, see what ye look like."