CHAPTER XVII

THAT MESCAL


"The man who had your horses?" queried Bartley.

Cheyenne nodded. "The one at the end of the bar. The hombre next to him
is Lawson, who claims he bought my hosses from a Mexican, down here.
Lawson is the one that is huntin' trouble. Sneed don't care nothin'
about a couple of cayuses. He won't start anything. He's here just to
back up Lawson if things git interestin'."

"But what can they do? We're here, in town, minding our own business.
They know well enough that Panhandle stole your horses. And you said the
people in San Andreas don't like Sneed a whole lot."

"Because they're scared of him and his crowd. And we're strangers here.
It's just me and Lawson, this deal. Sneed is sizin' you up, back of his
whiskers, right now. He's tryin' to figure out who you are. Sneed ain't
one to run into the law when they's anybody lookin' on. He works
different.

"Now, while he is figurin', you just git up easy and step out and slip
over to the barn and saddle up Joshua. I'm goin' to need him. Take the
tie-rope off Filaree and leave him loose in his stall. Just say 'Adios'
to me when you git up, like you was goin' back to the hotel. And if
you'll settle what we owe--"

"That's all right. But my feet aren't cold, yet."