“Who says so, Bub?”
The two looked at each other, eyes questioning.
“Look here, son,” said Pike, after a little, “I’ll hit any trail with you barring Mexican politics. They all sell each other out as regular as the seasons swing around, and the man north of the line who gets tangled is sure to be victim if he stays in long enough.”
“Oh, I don’t know! We have a statesman or two who flirted with Sonora and came out ahead.”
“I said if he stayed in,” reminded Pike. “Sure we have crooks galore who drift across, play a cut-throat game and skip back to cover. The border is lined with them on both sides. And Conrad–––”
“But Conrad isn’t in politics.”
“N-no. There’s no evidence that he is, but his Mexican friends are. There are men on the Granados now who used to be down on Soledad, and they are the men who make the trips with him to the lower ranch.”
“Tomas Herrara and Chico Domingo?”
“I reckon you’ve sized them up, but remember, Kit, I don’t cross over with you for any political game, and I don’t know a thing!”
“All right, Captain, but don’t raise too loud a howl if I fancy a pasear occasionally to improve my Spanish.”