“Well, what of it? We are two, and in a good cause able to hold our own against a legion of these miserable Greasers. But—if you feel doubtful about it, Morgan, I hope what I’ve said won’t move you to take up arms against your good judgment. If it’s a fool’s errand, better that only one head be broken.”
“Nonsense. Don’t you understand that I’m in a humor to do anything to-night—that I even welcome this adventure as something calculated to break the horrid monotony of my existence? Besides, something draws me on, and I don’t believe I could hold back now, no matter if I were sure of hard knocks.”
He looked relieved.
“Well, that ought to settle it. But see here, didn’t you say you talked Spanish?”
I confessed that I could manage to fairly hold up my end of a conversation, provided the other party were something of a mind reader.
“Suppose you question her, then?”
That appeared to be a bright thought, and I proceeded to carry it out; but my success was hardly flattering, since the child either would not or could not understand my fearfully constructed sentences, and made answer always in about the same vein, her stock of English being as limited as was my supply of Spanish.
“You come—good lady—she cry mucho—me love lady—show Amer-i-cano casa—bueno—you come—me glad.”
At length I desisted.
“We must take our chances, Robbins. The girl is here to lead us. Shall we make a start?” I asked, for since I was in the game, the sooner I saw what I had to face the better.