From the /jacals/ came a cry of: "El Amo! El Amo!" Four Mexican youths
raced to unharness the greys. The cowpunchers gave a yell of greeting
and delight.
Ranse Truesdell, driving, threw the reins to the ground and laughed.
"It's under the wagon sheet, boys," he said. "I know what you're
waiting for. If Sam lets it run out again we'll use those yellow shoes
of his for a target. There's two cases. Pull 'em out and light up. I
know you all want a smoke."
After striking dry country Ranse had removed the wagon sheet from the
bows and thrown it over the goods in the wagon. Six pair of hasty
hands dragged it off and grabbled beneath the sacks and blankets for
the cases of tobacco.
Long Collins, tobacco messenger from the San Gabriel outfit, who rode
with the longest stirrups west of the Mississippi, delved with an arm
like the tongue of a wagon. He caught something harder than a blanket
and pulled out a fearful thing--a shapeless, muddy bunch of leather
tied together with wire and twine. From its ragged end, like the head
and claws of a disturbed turtle, protruded human toes.
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