"I
knew such a queen once who would have chosen a mucker, if
he'd a-let her. You're stuck on her, ol' man?"
"I'm afraid I am, Billy," Bridge admitted; "but what's the
use? Let's forget it. Oh, say, is this the horse I let you take
the night you robbed the bank?"
"Yes," said Billy; "same little pony, an' a mighty
well-behaved one, too. Why?"
"It's hers," said Bridge.
"An' she wants it back?"
"She didn't say so; but I'd like to get it to her some way,"
said Bridge.
"You ride it back when you go," suggested Billy.
"But I can't go back," said Bridge; "it was Grayson, the
foreman, who made it so hot for me I had to leave. He tried
to arrest me and send me to Villa."
"What for?" asked Billy.
"He didn't like me, and wanted to get rid of me." Bridge
wouldn't say that his relations with Billy had brought him into
trouble.
"Oh, well, I'll take it back myself then, and at the same
time I'll tell Penelope what a regular fellow you are, and
punch in the foreman's face for good luck."
"No, you mustn't go there. They know you now. It was
some of El Orobo's men you shot up day before yesterday
when you took their steers from them. They recognized the
pony, and one of them had seen you in Cuivaca the night of
the robbery.
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