"You know Señor Moore—no hair so?" an expressive gesture.
"Sure; what about him?"
"He meet me at the spring; he come up the trail from Haskell on horseback with another man not belong 'round here."
"What did he look like—big, red-faced fellow, with checked suit and round hat?"
"Si, señor; he say to Moore, 'Why the hell you talk that damn greaser,' an' Moore laugh, an' say because I work for Señor Westcott."
"But what was it Moore said to you, José?"
"He cussed me first, an' when I wouldn't move, he swore that Lacy would own this whole hill before thirty days."
"Was that all? Didn't the other fellow say anything?"
"No, señor; but he swung his horse against me as they went by—he mighty poor rider."
"No doubt; that is not one of the amusements of the Bowery. Where did they go? Up to La Rosita?"