"There's some genuine fighters for you," he observed to Phil; and a giant Yaqui, standing near, returned his praise with a smile.
"W'y, hello there, Amigo!" hailed Bud, jerking his head in a friendly salute. "That's a feller I was making signs to up in Agua Negra," he explained. "Dogged if I ain't stuck on these Yaquis—they're all men, believe me!"
"Good workers, all right," conceded De Lancey, "but I'd hate to have 'em get after me with those guns. They say they've killed a lot of Americans, one time and another."
"Well, if they did it was for being caught in bad company," said Hooker. "I'd take a chance with 'em any time—but if you go into their country with a Mexican escort they'll kill you on general principles. Say," he cried impulsively, "I'm going over to talk with Amigo!"
With a broad grin on his honest face he advanced toward the giant Yaqui and shook hands ceremoniously.
"Where you go?" he inquired in Spanish, at the same time rolling a cigarette and asking by a sign for a match.
"Moctezuma," answered the Indian gravely. Then, as Bud offered him the makings, he, too, rolled a cigarette and they smoked for a minute in silence.
"You live here?" inquired the Yaqui at last.
"Come here," corrected Bud. "I have a mine—ten miles—over there."
He pointed with the flat of his hand, Indian fashion, and Amigo nodded understandingly.