“I’ve heard tell that you had cold iron for nerves,” commented Gilbert. “But you ain’t backing me down, none whatever, ma’am!”
He sprang in, began to shift the load, and Lewis promptly joined him. Mrs. Crump turned and strode away through the dust. Thady Shea watched her out of sight, then twisted about, and for the first time broke the silence that had enveloped him.
“Gentlemen! May I inquire whether either of you delvers in the deeps of earth are possessed of spirits?”
At the sonorously booming voice Gilbert’s jaw dropped in amazement.
“Good gosh! Is that Scripture talk? What d’ye mean—spirits?”
Shea made an impatient gesture. “The fiery fluids that do mingle soul with vaster inspiration! I pray you, give me to drink as you do value drink!”
“Oh, he means a drink!” ejaculated Lewis, staring. “We ain’t got a drop, Shea.”
The lanky figure jack-knifed together again in disconsolate despair. The two men in the rear of the car glanced at each other. Gilbert tapped his head; Lewis grimaced.
Meantime, Mrs. Crump had passed along the winding row of adobes and finally turned into a corral of high boards. There, concealed from exterior view, she found an automobile at rest; she went on to the adjoining rear door of the adobe house. The door was opened to her by Coravel Tio, who greeted her with a quick smile and a bow.
“My land, it’s hot!” said Mrs. Crump. “Howdy!”