The assistant hesitated.
The collector laughed. "Shake hands with Jim Waring, Jack."
When the assistant had gone, the collector turned to Waring. "That's Jack every time. Stubborn as a tight boot, but good leather every time. Know why he wanted to shake hands? Well, that's his way of tellin' you he thinks you're some smooth for not pullin' a fight when it looked like nothing else was on the bill."
Waring smiled. "I've met you before, haven't I?"
Pat pretended to ignore the question. "Say, stranger," he began with slow emphasis, "you're makin' mighty free and familiar for a prisoner arrested for smuggling. Mebby you're all right personal, but officially I got a case against you. What do you know about raising cucumbers? I got a catalogue in the office, and me and Jack has been aiming to raise cucumbers from it for three months. I like 'em. Jack says you can't do it down here without water every day. Now—"
"Where have you planted them, Pat?"
"Oh, hell! They ain't planted yet. We're just figuring. Now, up Las
Cruces way—"
"Let's go back to the cantina and talk it out. There goes Mexico leading a horse with an empty saddle. I guess the boy will be all right in the office."
"Was the kid mixed up in your getaway?"
"Yes. And he's a good boy."