A young chap from the East who was in Clear River County because of his lungs named her Delilah when she was only a little girl—Delilah Gomez. She cooked now for the Double Six Ranch, the buildings of which clustered within a stone's throw of the Ranger post office. And that night as she sat looking from her window she thought, as she did much of the time, about the smiling Julio with his guitar—the handsome fellow who lived with Señor Rhues and did no work, but wore such fine chaps and kerchiefs!
She sighed, then started to her feet as she saw him come through the gate and up the path, and hastened to open the door for him.
Julio took off his hat.
"It is late," he said, flashing his teeth. "I come to ask you to do something for me, Delilah."
"What is it—now—so late?" she asked breathlessly.
"In the old house across the road"—he pointed—"is a horse. It is the horse of a friend. A friend, also, of Señor Rhues. He is now in the saloon. He is drunk. Will you take the horse away? To the place of Señor Rhues? And put him in the barn? And be sure to fasten the door so he will not get out?"
Delilah was puzzled a moment.
"But why," she asked, "why so late?"
Julio bowed profoundly again.
"We go—Señor Rhues, Señor Matson, and I, Julio, to take our friend away from the saloon. We are busy. Senor Rhues offers this."