eh?"

Anastasio shook his belt; the silver coins rang as he
shook them together.

Meanwhile, Pancracio dealt the cards, the jack of
spades turned up out of the deck and a quarrel ensued.
Altercation, noise, then shouts, and, at last, insults. Pan-
cracio brought his stony face close to Manteca, who
looked at him with snake's eyes, convulsive, foaming at
the mouth. Another moment and they would have been
exchanging blows. Having completely exhausted their
stock of direct insults, they now resorted to the most
flowery and ornate insulting of each other's ancestors,
male and female, paternal or maternal. Yet nothing unto-
ward occurred.

After their supply of words was exhausted, they gave
over gambling and, their arms about each other's shoul-
ders, marched off in search of a drink of alcohol.

"I don't like to fight with my tongue either, it's not de-
cent. I'm right, too, eh? I tell you no man living has ever
breathed a word to me against my mother. I want to be
respected, see? That's why you've never seen me fooling
with anyone." There was a pause. Then, suddenly, "Look
there, Tenderfoot," Anastasio said, changing his tone
and standing up with one hand spread over his eyes.
"What's that dust over there behind the hillock. By God,
what if it's those damned Federals and we sitting here