“What’d you skip out for?”
“Because I’m an American. I don’t like it in Vera Cruz.”
“Guess you didn’t. Guess nobody does—and they’ll all like it less, to-day. We’re to give ’em a jolly good shaking up. Got any folks?”
“No.”
“Anybody come with you?”
“No.”
“Well, what’s your name?”
“Jerry Cameron.”
“That sounds all right. What did you do in Vera Cruz?”
“Lived there with my father until he died from yellow fever. Then I worked for two Mexicans, until I had a chance to run away.”