But no one fired; on the contrary, each man slowly dropped his pistol,
and opened his eyes.

There was no newly made corpse visible, nor did any Greasers savagely
wave a bloody stiletto.

But on the ground, insensible, lay a Mexican woman, and about her stood
seven or eight Greasers, each looking even more dumb, incapable, and
solemn than usual.

The city fathers felt themselves in an awkward position, and Mississip
finally asked, in the meekest of tones:

"What's the matter?"

"She Codago's wife," softly replied a Mexican. "They fight in
Chihuahua--he run away--she follow. She come here now--this minute--she
fall on Codago--she say something, we know not--he scream an' run."

"He's a low-lived scoundrel!" said Chagres Charley, between his teeth.
"Ef _my_ wife thort enough of me to follow me to the diggin's, I
wouldn't do much runnin' away. He's a reg'lar black-hearted,
white-livered--"

"Sh--h--h!" whispered Nappy, the Frenchman. "The lady is recovering, and
she may have a heart."

"_Maria, Madre purissima_!" low wailed the woman. "_Mi nino--mi nino
perdido_!"