Guadalupe was generous with his liquor, and they attacked it with a will. Tequila is potent liquor, and its full effect comes suddenly. Gonzales sat at the far end of the room, drinking alone, thinking deeply. His two men remained outside, each of them half-asleep. Torres still appeared to sleep at the table, while Garcia still squatted against the wall, half-covered with his serape.
The tequila seemed to have the desired effect, and those at the long table became jovial. Even Doctor Meline forgot his fears and matched drinks with the rest of the crowd. Guadalupe sat down with them and helped drink some of his own liquor.
The liquor gave them prodigious appetites and they did justice to the simple and none too clean cooking of Lopez. No one offered Hashknife food nor drink and he asked for none.
It was growing dark now, and Lopez brought in a lighted lamp for the center of the table.
“How about stickin’ a guard down the trail?” asked Baldy. “We don’t want somebody runnin’ in on us, Steve.”
“I have none,” said Guadalupe. “Felipe is gone. Perhaps I might have Lopez watch the trail.”
“I send my two men,” offered Gonzales, and went out to them.
“That’ll make me set easier,” declared Baldy. “Let’s have a few more bottles, Steve. I feel like a bird tonight.”
“And we have some work to do presently,” said Meline, nodding toward Hashknife. “But that can wait.”