While still in the shadow of the night the crowd halted and the watchers in the buildings could see them across the broad belt of light—a stirring, restless mass of men, shadowy and indistinct. Now and then a single figure in the white canvas jumper, trousers and wide sombrero of the Mexicans, or wearing the blue overalls and black shirt decorated with many brightly colored ribbons and the green, yellow or orange head cloth of the Indians, would detach itself from the main company and—coming nearer—would stand out with sudden startling clearness, disappearing again as suddenly in the dark mass as it again moved farther away.
Here and there in the confusion of dusky moving forms a face would appear as someone, looking up at the electric light caught its rays full upon his swarthy features; or the watchers would catch the gleam and flash from a weapon, a belt buckle or an ornament as the mob of men moved uneasily about. Still farther away the restless, stirring mass was dissolved in the darkness of the night.
"They're palaverin' about the lights," said Texas to his companions. "Can't jest figure the deal under Abe's illumination. They're all plumb anxious, but they's nobody wishful to make himself conspicuous."
"Oh, why doesn't Abe come; why doesn't he come?" exclaimed Barbara.
"Av the saints will only kape thim cholos considerin', the lad may git here yet."
Even as the Irishman spoke the crowd, seemingly agreeing upon a plan, moved forward slowly in a body. When they were well within the lighted space Texas drawled: "Right here's where I feel moved to address the meetin'," and throwing open the door he stepped out upon the platform, which was built to the height of a wagon-bed above the level of the ground with steps at each end.
Standing thus in the bright light of the arc that sputtered over his head, he was seen instantly by every eye in the crowd. As if by command they halted, standing motionless, their dark faces turned toward the old plainsman.
Texas spoke in their own tongue. "Good evening, men. Why do you come here at this time of the night? What do you want?"
There was an angry shifting to and fro in the mass of men, and a
Mexican standing well to the front answered: "What should we want,
Senor Texas, but our pay? We have worked four—five—seven weeks
without money. We must have money to buy food—clothes—tobacco."
"Do not the commissaries in the camps supply you with all that you need? Surely you can wait a few hours longer. To-morrow you will be paid every cent."