Pete was for taking it along with them, but Brevoort vetoed the
suggestion. "It's as safe here as in a bank," he said, and taking the
two sacks from the saddle-pockets he lowered each one gently into the
big water-pitcher. "Nothin' in there but water, which don't interest a
Chola nohow. But I'll cinch it." Which he did downstairs, as he drew
a handful of gold pieces from his pocket, counted them carefully, and
left something like fifty dollars with the proprietor, asking him to
take care of the money for them, as they did not want to get "plumb
broke" the first night in town. The Mexican grinned understandingly.
He was familiar with the ways of cowboys. Their money would be safe
with him.
Outside Pete asked Brevoort if he had not "jest about made a present of
fifty to that Mex."
"Not any. He figures he'll get his share of it when we git to hittin'
the high-spots--which we don't aim to hit, this journey. That Mexican
sure thinks he's got all the money we own except what's on us right
now. So he won't ever think of goin' through our stuff upstairs. That
fifty was insurance on the big money.
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