"Are you ready to take a long journey, Señor Yeager?" he asked.
The heart of the cowpuncher lost a beat, but he did not bat an eye. "What journey? The same one that Holcomb took?" he demanded bluntly.
Culvera showed a face of pained surprise. "Am I a barbarian? Do you think me another Pasquale? No, no, señor. You and I have had our disagreements. But they are past. To tell the truth, I always did like the way you see a thing through to a fighting finish. Now that I know you are not the ruffian I had been led to think you, it is a pleasure to me to tell you that you have been tried and acquitted. I offer regrets for the inconvenience to which you have been put. You will pardon, is it not so, and do me the honor to dine with me before you leave?"
The heels of the Mexican came together, he bowed, and offered a hand to the range-rider.
"Just one moment, general. All that listens fine to me, but—what are the conditions?"
Ramon made a gesture of regret at being so sadly misunderstood. "Conditions! There are none."
"None at all?"
"None. Is it that you think me a peddler instead of a gentleman?" The face of the young Mexican expressed sorrow rather than anger.
Still Steve doubted. "Let's understand each other, general. Are you telling me that I can walk out of that door, climb into a saddle, and keep going till I get back into old Arizona?"
"I tell you that—and more. You will be furnished an escort to see you safely across the line. You may choose your own guard if you doubt."