“So darned much so, Murgie, that I want to dodge ’em.”
But his struggle against temptation was evident. He glanced back at the two women and again denounced the unfamiliar feminine element in men’s affairs. To avoid the brigandage encounter took more of manhood than Don Anastasio might imagine in a lifetime.
But they had not followed their new route five minutes before Murguía was again at the trooper’s side. An “I-told-you-so” smirk hovered on his pinched visage. “Segundino has gone,” he announced.
“So Segundino has gone?” Driscoll repeated. “Well, and who’s Segundino?”
“He’s one of my muleteers, but now I know he is a spy too. He will tell the bri–if there are brigands–where to meet us.” 79Murguía was thinking, too, of their reproachful increase on collection charges for the extra trouble.
“Then,” said Driscoll, “we’ll go back to our old trail,” which they did at once. Soon after he was not surprised to hear from Murguía that “this time it was Juan who had disappeared.”
“Didn’t I tell you to set a close watch?”
“Y-e-s, but what was the use? He slipped into the brush, and,” the trader complained, “I can’t spare any more drivers.”
“Don’t need to. We’ll just keep this trail now.”