I hate them. You hate them.
But enough of them. You have no business in Mexico except
to seek work. I give you work. You are big. You are strong.
You are like a bull. You stay with me, senor, and I make you
captain. I need men what can talk some English and look like
gringo. You do fine. We make much money--you and I. We
make it all time while we fight to liberate my poor Mexico.
When Mexico liberate we fight some more to liberate her
again. The Germans they give me much money to liberate
Mexico, and--there are other ways of getting much money
when one is riding around through rich country with soldiers
liberating his poor, bleeding country. Sabe?"
"Yep, I guess I savvy," said Billy, "an' it listens all right to
me's far's you've gone. My pal in on it?"
"Eh?"
"You make my frien' a captain, too?"
Pesita held up his hands and rolled his eyes in holy horror.
Take a gringo into his band? It was unthinkable.
"He shot," he cried. "I swear to kill all gringo. I become
savior of my country. I rid her of all Americanos."
"Nix on the captain stuff fer me, then," said Billy, firmly.
"That guy's a right one. If any big stiff thinks he can croak
little ol' Bridge while Billy Byrne's aroun' he's got anudder
t'ink comin'.
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