Every time I bring up the subject of that runaway, she laughs; but she won't say whether it was a runaway, no matter how I sneak the question in.

So I just let it go, seeing Jose is laid up now; only, next time I bump into Jose Pacheco, he's going to act pretty, or there's liable to be a little excitement.
"I wish I had my pistols.

I wrote to Bill Wilson about them again, the other day; if he doesn't send them down pretty soon, I'm going after them." He stopped, his attention arrested by the peculiar behavior of a herd of a hundred or more cattle, a little distance from the road.
"Now, what do you suppose is the excitement over there ?" he asked; and for answer Dade turned from the trail to investigate.
"Maybe they've run across the carcass of a critter that's been killed," he hazarded, "though this is pretty close home for beef thieves to get in their work.

Most of the stock is killed north and east of Manuel's camp." The cattle, moving restlessly about and jabbing their long, wicked horns at any animal that got in the way, lifted heads to stare at them suspiciously, before they turned tail and scampered off through the mustard.

From the live oak under which they had been gathered came a welcoming shout, and the two, riding under the tent-like branches, craned necks in astonishment.
"Hello, Jack," spoke the voice again.