of the holy statues.

After Quail, an expert in such matters, had examined
Manteca's treasure covetously, he uttered a solemn
guffaw.

"Hell, Your ornament is nothing but tin!"

"Why in hell are you hanging on to that poison?"
Pancracio asked Blondie who appeared dragging a pris-
oner.

"Do you want to know why? Because it's a long time
since I've had a good look at a man's face when a rope
tightens around his neck!"

The fat prisoner breathed with difficulty as he fol-
lowed Blondie on foot; his face was sunburnt, his eyes
red; his forehead beaded with sweat, his wrists tightly
bound together.

"Here, Anastasio, lend me your lasso. Mine's not
strong enough; this bird will bust it. No, by God, I've
changed my mind, friend Federal: think I'll kill you on
the spot, because you are pulling too hard. Look, all the
mesquites are still a long way off and there are no tele-
graph poles to hang you to!"

Blondie pulled his gun out, pressed the muzzle against
the prisoner's chest and brought his finger against the