"Dig for 'em," drawled the Texan.
"If we miss the first jump, then they shoot, and that'll be our finish. But that's a heap better 'n gittin' stood up against a 'dobe wall. I jest found them eggs."
And Pete uttered an exclamation as he drew his hand from the straw behind him, and produced an egg. The Mexicans glanced up. Pete dug in the straw and fetched up another egg—and another. Brevoort leaned forward as though deeply interested in some sleight-of-hand trick. Egg after egg came from the abandoned nest. The Mexicans laughed. The supply of eggs seemed to be endless.
Finally Pete drew out his hand, empty. "Let's count 'em," he said, and straightway began, placing the eggs in a pile midway between himself and his companion. "Twenty-eight. She was a enterprisin' hen."
"I'll match for 'em," said Brevoort, hitching round and facing Pete.
"I'll go you!" And straightway Brevoort and Pete became absorbed in the game, seemingly oblivious to the Mexicans, who sat watching, with open mouths, utterly absorbed in their childish interest. Two Gringoes were gambling for bad eggs.
Pete won for a while. Then he began to lose. "They're ripe all right. I can tell by the color. Plumb ready to bust. The Cholas sabe that. Watch 'em grin. They 're waitin' for one of us to bust a egg. That'll be a big joke, and they'll 'most die a-laughin'—'cause it's a joke—and 'cause we're Gringoes."
"Then here's where I bust one," said Brevoort. "Get a couple in your hand. Act like you was chokin' to death. I'll laugh. Then I'll kind of get the smell of that lame egg and stand up quick. Ready?"
"Shoot," said Pete.
Brevoort tossed an egg on the pile. Several of the eggs broke with a faint "plop." Pete wrinkled his nose, and his face expressed such utter astonishment, disgust, even horror, as the full significance of the age of those eggs ascended to him, that he did not need to act his part. He got to his feet and backed away from those eggs, even as Brevoort rose slowly, as though just aware that the eggs were not altogether innocent. The two Mexicans had risen to their knees and rocked back and forth, laughing at the beautiful joke on the Gringoes. Plop!—Plop!—Plop! and three of the four eggs targeted an accurate twelve o'clock. Pete leaped and kicked viciously. His high heel caught one choking Mexican in the jaw just as Brevoort jumped and swung the single-tree. Pete grabbed up his belt and gun.