"He is an American?" asked the boss.
"Looks like it; but he's got the heart of a greaser," replied
Grayson. "Some of Villa's men are with me, and they're a-goin'
to take him to Cuivaca tomorrow."
Neither Barbara nor her father seemed to enthuse much. To
them an American was an American here in Mexico, where
every hand was against their race. That at home they might
have looked with disgust upon this same man did not alter
their attitude here, that no American should take sides against
his own people. Barbara said as much to Grayson.
"Why this fellow's one of Pesita's officers," exclaimed
Grayson. "He don't deserve no sympathy from us nor from no
other Americans. Pesita has sworn to kill every American that
falls into his hands, and this fellow's with him to help him do
it. He's a bad un."
"I can't help what he may do," insisted Barbara. "He's an
American, and I for one would never be a party to his death
at the hands of a Mexican, and it will mean death to him to
be taken to Cuivaca."
"Well, miss," said Grayson, "you won't hev to be
responsible--I'll take all the responsibility there is and
welcome. I just thought you'd like to know we had him."
He was addressing his employer. The latter nodded, and
Grayson turned and left the room.
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