This seemed to
revive the patient's faltering spirit wonderfully. The cook, a
half-witted fellow, was another man who seemed to have no fear. His
eyes shone wickedly and he was stripped for the fight. A red bandanna
kerchief tied around his head, he glided stealthily about, thirsty
for Indian blood as any wolf. They told me that his mother and sister
had died at the hands of the cruel Apaches.
To me the rider said, "Senor Americanito, I know your gun is loaded
right and is ready to shoot straight. Look you, if you plant a bullet
just below an Indian's navel, you will see him do a double
somersault, which is more wonderful to behold than any circus
performance you ever saw."
Here was a man good to see, a descendant of the famous Don Fernando
Cortez, conquistador, and molded on the lines of Pizarro, the wily
conqueror of Peru, and he heartened our crew amazingly. He exhorted
the men to be brave and fight like Spaniards, and he prayed to the
saints to preserve us; and piously remembering his enemies, he called
on the devil to preserve the Indians. Such zealous devotion found
merited favor with the blessed saints in Heaven, for they granted his
prayer, and the Indians did not attack us that day.
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