"I hope you never may."
"Sometimes I hope so too." He was holding up his hands before the fire. "How's the patrone?" he asked, as he put on the coffee-pot to boil.
"Going downhill rapid. He's mortgaged Holy Cross to the last dollar."
"What's his play?"
"Faro and monte—you'll see him bucking the game all night down at the Sepulchre. He drinks hard now."
"Pore old—er chap, don't you know! And the lady?"
"Dying out down at the Hacienda. The padre sits with her."
"And the young chief?"
"Do you still hate him?"
"Why should I care?"