fight. I hope the Indians will accommodate us, as we are greatly in
need of a little sport. It may happen that some of you will lose your
scalps, and I hope that it is not you, Senor Felipe Morales. I should
be very sorry for your poor old mother and your crippled sister, for
who will support them if you should fail them? As for you, Senor
Juan, it does not matter much if you never again breathe the air of
New Mexico. Your young little wife has not yet had an opportunity to
know you fully, anyway, and your cousin, the strapping Don Isidro
Chavez, will surely take the best care of her. They say he calls on
her daily to inquire after her welfare. Senor Cuzco Gonzales, as you
might be unlucky enough to leave your bones on this prairie, I would
advise you to make me heir to your garden of chile peppers. To be
sure, I never saw a more tempting crop! Mayhap you will have no
further use for chile, as the Indians are likely to heat your belly
with hot coals, in lieu of peppers."

Then he called for the cook. "Senor Doctor," he said, "prepare the
medicine for this man, who is too sick to load a musket properly, and
had to be shown how to do so by a little gringo, as I observed a
while ago. Hold him, Senores." And they held him down while the cook
administered the medicine, forcing it down his unwilling throat. The
medicine was compounded from salt, and the prescribed dose was a
handful of it dissolved in a tin cupful of water. This seemed to
revive the patient's faltering spirit wonderfully. The cook, a
half-witted fellow, was another man who seemed to have no fear. His
eyes shone wickedly and he was stripped for the fight. A red bandanna
kerchief tied around his head, he glided stealthily about, thirsty
for Indian blood as any wolf. They told me that his mother and sister
had died at the hands of the cruel Apaches.