"So long, old man," said Billy. "If I'm goin' to be of any
help to you and Mig the less I'm seen with you the better. I'll
blow over and mix with the Dago bunch, an' practice sittin'
on my heels. It seems to be the right dope down here, an' I
got to learn all I can about bein' a greaser seein' that I've
turned one."
"Good-bye Billy, remember Rio," said Bridge.
"And the revolvers, senor," added Miguel.
"You bet," replied Billy, and strolled off in the direction of
the little circle of cigarette smokers.
As he approached them Rozales looked up and smiled.
Then, rising, extended his hand.
"Senor Captain," he said, "we welcome you. I am Captain
Rozales." He hesitated waiting for Billy to give his name.
"My monacker's Byrne," said Billy. "Pleased to meet you,
Cap."
"Ah, Captain Byrne," and Rozales proceeded to introduce
the newcomer to his fellow-officers.
Several, like Rozales, were educated men who had been
officers in the army under former regimes, but had turned
bandit as the safer alternative to suffering immediate death at
the hands of the faction then in power. The others, for the
most part, were pure-blooded Indians whose adult lives had
been spent in outlawry and brigandage. All were small of
stature beside the giant, Byrne.
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