"
"Brent was sayin' he was short of hands," suggested Pete.
"Which is correct. But there's that Jose who knows every foot of the
dry-spot clean to the Ortez--and he knows every hoss-thief in this
sun-blasted country. Does he send Jose? No. He sends two white men,
tellin' me that it is too big a deal to trust the Mexican with."
"And a fine chance of gittin' bumped off by a lousy bunch of Cholas
callin' themselves soldiers, eh?"
"You said it."
"Well, we got good hosses, anyway. And I sabe the Mexican talk."
"Guess that's why Brent sent you along. He knows I talk mighty little
Mexican." And Brevoort gazed curiously at Pete.
"Seein' as you feel that way about it, Ed, I got somethin' I been
millin' over in my head. Now, when The Spider sent me down here he
said he had some important business he wanted me to handle. Brent was
to tell me. Now I don't see anything important about ridin' line or
chasin' into Mexico to wake up a bunch of Greasers and tell 'em to get
busy. Uncle Sammy Brent's got somethin' hid up his sleeve, Ed."
Brevoort, riding slowly beside Pete, turned from gazing across the
desert and looked Pete over from spur to sombrero with a new interest.
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