"Very like, very like," said the judge sharply. "Reckon you've taken too much already. Look as if you could swallow a wild cat, claws and all. And you," added he, turning to me—"What the devil are you at, Ptoly? Don't you see the man wants his breakfast? Where's the coffee? Or would you rather have tea?"
"Thank you, Alcalde, I have breakfasted already."
"Don't look as if. Ain't sick, are you? Where do you come from? What's happened to you? What are you doing with Bob?"
He looked keenly and searchingly at me, and then again at Bob. My appearance was certainly not very prepossessing, unshaven as I was, and with my clothes and linen soiled and torn. He was evidently considering what could be the motive of our visit, and what had brought me into Bob's society. The result of his physiognomical observations did not appear very favourable either to me or my companion. I hastened to explain.
"You shall hear how it was, judge. I am indebted to Bob for my life."
"Your life! Indebted to Bob for your life!" repeated the judge, shaking his head incredulously.
I related how I had lost my way in the prairie; been carried into the Jacinto by my horse; and how I should inevitably have been drowned but for Bob's aid.
"Indeed!" said the judge, when I had done speaking. "So, Bob saved your life! Well, I am glad of it, Bob, very glad of it. Ah! if you could only keep away from that Johnny. I tell you, Bob, Johnny will be the ruin of you. Better keep out of his way."
"It's too late," answered Bob.
"Don't know why it should be. Never too late to leave a debauched, sinful life; never, man!"