“The girl will be waiting for you, of course?”
“I have not informed her. It will be a surprise! Such a surprise, señores!”
He did not know that she had already married a rival. He never did know. Somewhere at the edge of the desert, the train stopped, and a party of federal soldiers came aboard. A Carranzista officer walked quickly up the aisle, scanning the faces of the passengers. Before the little General, he paused.
“Ramón Vásquez?”
“Sí, señor.”
“Come with me.”
The General rose. He was strangely calm. He seemed suddenly to have gained in stature. There was a quiet pride in his bearing—a poise—a distinction. He shook hands with each of us, even with the American who had insulted him.
“There is an army post here, señores. I had hoped to go home to-night to see the girl. But it is better, perhaps, that the investigation come first. Remember, señores, in Mazatlán my house is your house.”
X
There was no investigation.