[ILLUSTRATIONS]

PAGE
[The calf was like its mother, but she, on account of her brand and ear-marks, held the entire attention of the Texan]Frontispiece
[Pecos's ever-ready pistol was out and balanced in his hand]58
[As the rout went by Angy saw Pecos, tied to his horse, his arms bound tight to his sides]189
["You will turn this jail into a hog-waller, will you?" he demanded]253
[She laid a brown hand against the bars as if in protest and motioned him nearer the screen]313

THE TEXICAN

CHAPTER I

VERDE CROSSING

THE languid quiet of midday lay upon the little road-house that stood guard by Verde Crossing. Old Crit and his wild Texas cowboys had left the corral at dawn, riding out mysteriously with their running irons in their chaps; the dogs had crawled under José Garcia's house and gone to sleep; to the north the Tonto trail stretched away vacant and only the brawling of the Verde as it rushed over the rocky ford suggested the savage struggle that was going on in the land. Within the adobe fort that served for both store and saloon Angevine Thorne, Old Crit's roustabout, sat tipped back in his chair breathing thoughtfully through a mouth-organ while a slender Mexican girl, lingering by the doorway, listened in childish adoration.

"Oyez, Babe," she pleaded, lisping in broken English, "sing 'Work iss Done' for me, otra vez, once more."

"Yore maw will be singin' a different tune if you don't hurry home with that lard," counselled Babe, but seeing that she was in no mood to depart he cleared his throat to sing. "You don't know how bad this makes me feel, Marcelina," he said, rubbing his hand over his bald spot and smoothing down his lank hair, "but I'll sing you the first verse—it ain't so bad." He stood up and turned his eyes to heaven; a seraphic smile came into his face, as if he saw the angels, and in a caressing tenor voice he began:—