The padre, the law sharp an' me is started before sun-up, an' a good
road-gait fetches us to the Hacienda Tulorosa in a couple of hours.
It's the sort of a ranch which a high grade Mexican with a strong
bank-roll would throw up. It's built all 'round a court, with a
flower garden and a fountain in the centre. As we comes up, I
observes the old Magdalena projectin' about the main door of the
casa, stirrin' up some lazy peonies to their daily toil--which, to
use the word "toil," however, in connection with a Greaser, is plumb
sarcastic. The padre leads us into the cases, an' the bitter-lookin'
Magdalena hustles us some grub; after which we-all smokes a bit.
Then the padre gets up an' leads the way.
"'"Come, my children," says the padre, "I will show you the graves.
Then you shall hear what there is of the Senor Juan an' the Donna
Anna."
"'It's a set-back,' continyoos Enright, as he signals Black Jack the
barkeep to show us he's awake; 'it's shorely a disaster that some
book-instructed gent like Peets or Colonel Sterett don't hear this
padre when he makes them revelations that day. Not that I overlooks
a bet, or don't recall 'em none; but I ain't upholstered with them
elegancies of diction needed to do 'em justice now.
Pages:
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243