“You know the road to Anselmo?”

“No; but I can find it.”

“How you know you can?”

“I have found you, Señora.”

She sat staring at him, fanning her face with her handkerchief; her face was without more expression than a large uncut ham.

“What you going to do in Anselmo?”

“I’ve business with George Elena.”

“What business?”

“Horses.”

“Why you come this way, if you go on business? This ain’t the way. Why you not go the proper road?”