“Golly! Marse Frank, I don’ jes’ likes de looks of dis place.”
“Begorra, I’m wid yez, naygur!” cried Barney. “Av I’m not mishtaken thim omadhouns will be no frinds to us.”
But Frank did not seem to share this fear.
He busied himself with adjusting the brake, and while thus engaged the greasers crowded about the Steam Man.
One of them lazily puffing a cheroot, ventured to address Frank:
“Buenos, senor! Welcome to Lone Ranch.”
“Thank you!” replied Frank, politely. “Are you the ranchero?”
“Si, senor! Pray dismount and enter. I have some wine which will suit your taste.”
The fellow was a tall, dark-complexioned chap, with long black mustache and eyes of keenest black.
He used good English and was very polite and affable.