There Luis saw a tall man with sandy hair sitting at a table, drinking.
“Here’s a good kid fer us,” said Cheetim to the sandy haired man. “He ain’t been up here long; an’ nobody don’t know him, an’ he don’t know nobody.”
“Does he savvy U. S.?” demanded the man.
“Si, Senor,” spoke up Luis. “I understand pretty good. I speak it pretty good, too.”
“Can you keep your mouth shut?”
“Si, Senor.”
“If you don’t, somebody’ll shut it for you,” said the man, drawing his forefinger across his throat meaningly. “You savvy?”
“What is this job?” demanded Luis.
“You ain’t got nothin’ to do but herd a little bunch o’ cattle an’ keep your trap closed. If anyone asks you any questions in United States you don’t savvy; and if they talk Greaser to you, why you don’t know nothin’ about the cattle except that a kind old gentleman hired you to ride herd on ’em.”
“Si, Senor.”