Cultus found Blaze Nolan and Jules at the ranch. Jules eyed him with a certain suspicion, until he realised that this was the strange cowboy who had pitched Alden Marsh out of the saloon.
“I’m soree I’m not see it,” he told Cultus.
“Was it somethin’ you’d like to have seen?” smiled Cultus.
“Oh, ver’ mooch.”
“Come in and set down,” invited Blaze.
The interior of the ranch-house was on a par with the exterior. The floor was hard-packed adobe, the walls whitewashed. In one corner was a big fireplace, where the smoke had blackened the walls. Several old Navajo rugs were spread on the floor, and one wall was decorated with a huge Mexican serape.
Cultus sprawled in an old chair and rolled a cigarette.
“This place shore seems homelike,” he said. He sniffed the air and grinned over his cigarette.
“Frijoles, eh?”
“Beeg pot,” laughed Mendoza. “Plenty beans. Pretty soon we eat.”