The Indian spoke to the man and received his reply.
“He says, ‘I do not know. Sonora Jack he always keep those things for himself.’”
Hugh Edwards cried hoarsely:
“But the name, Natachee, ask him the name.”
The dying Mexican opened his eyes as the Indian, bending over him, repeated the question. He answered:
“Eso nunca me dijo Sonora Jack,” and with a look toward Saint Jimmy, sank into unconsciousness.
Natachee faced toward that little company of agitated listeners.
“He says, ‘Sonora Jack never did tell me that.’”
Mother Burton led Marta from the room. Old Thad, muttering to himself, followed.
Doctor Burton turned from the bedside, saying quietly: