No need to tell us that. We knew it. His looks did not belie his reputation. For he was every inch a killer.
Perhaps he could see the fear in our eyes and it served to fan his devilish egotism. He leered at Felipe, who crossed himself, and the action caused the Tiger much merriment.
“What do you want here?” queried Ramon huskily.
“Want? Ha, ha, ha, ha!”
He threw back his head and laughed, but his beady eyes watched closely.
“What does the Tiger always want?” He shoved out a claw-like hand, opening and closing it. “Gold! Give me your gold—all of it!”
“I have little gold, señor” whined Felipe. “We are poor people in Santa Ynez.”
The storm still raged, but we gave it no heed now.
“Liars!” snarled the Tiger. “I teach men to tell the truth. Give me the gold, fool!”
Felipe got slowly to his feet and moved back of his small counter, where he kept his money.