“I see,” said Pesita—“a German colony. I like the Germans—they furnish me with much ammunition and rifles. They are my very good friends. Take Miguel and the gringo away”—this to the soldiers who had brought the prisoners to him—“I will speak further with this man from Granavenoo.”
When the others had passed out of hearing Pesita addressed Billy.
“I am sorry, senor,” he said, “that you have been put to so much inconvenience. My men could not know that you were not a gringo; but I can make it all right. I will make it all right. You are a big man. The gringos have chased you from their country as they chased me. I hate them. You hate them. But enough of them. You have no business in Mexico except to seek work. I give you work. You are big. You are strong. You are like a bull. You stay with me, senor, and I make you captain. I need men what can talk some English and look like gringo. You do fine. We make much money—you and I. We make it all time while we fight to liberate my poor Mexico. When Mexico liberate we fight some more to liberate her again. The Germans they give me much money to liberate Mexico, and—there are other ways of getting much money when one is riding around through rich country with soldiers liberating his poor, bleeding country. Sabe?”
“Yep, I guess I savvy,” said Billy, “an' it listens all right to me's far's you've gone. My pal in on it?”
“Eh?”
“You make my frien' a captain, too?”
Pesita held up his hands and rolled his eyes in holy horror. Take a gringo into his band? It was unthinkable.
“He shot,” he cried. “I swear to kill all gringo. I become savior of my country. I rid her of all Americanos.”
“Nix on the captain stuff fer me, then,” said Billy, firmly. “That guy's a right one. If any big stiff thinks he can croak little ol' Bridge while Billy Byrne's aroun' he's got anudder t'ink comin'. Why, me an' him's just like brudders.”
“You like this gringo?” asked Pesita.