“Naturally. But I must have men and horses and munitions. I—Juan Pachuca—cannot fight in the ranks.”
“I don’t see why not,” said Polly, candidly. “My brother fought in the ranks and he’s a college man. He didn’t mind.”
“Oh, well, in America—that is different! You have no ideas as to family. I beg your pardon, what I mean is, that your people are different.”
“Well, I hope we are,” replied Polly, piously. “But I’m afraid some of us aren’t as different as we ought to be.”
“Now we are even,” said the Mexican, showing his white teeth. “And you know why I took your men and horses. They will be made good to you when the country becomes settled.”
“I hope so, but it seems to me you’re going to have so many people to settle with that some of us are going to come out at the little end. Of course, your car will help some.”
Pachuca frowned. “Señorita,” he said, gravely, “I must have the car and I must get away from here to-night. Much depends upon it. Won’t you help me?” He leaned toward her as he spoke, his dark eyes luminous, his voice soft and caressing.
“The tiger kitty is purring,” thought Polly. “It’s a nice kitty but I mustn’t pet it. Señor,” she said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“Say rather that you won’t.”
Polly fingered the key which she had taken from Matt. Then she put it in the pocket of her sweater.