"Reckon he hain't been squarely finished." "Stop!" ordered Coronado.

"He is not an Apache.

He is some pueblo Indian.
See how much he is hurt." "Skull ain't broke," replied Texas, fingering the wound as roughly as if it had been in the flesh of a beast.

"Reckon he'll flop round.

May do mischief, if we don't fix him." Anxious to stick his knife into the defenceless young throat, he nevertheless controlled his sentiments and looked up for instructions.
Since the splendid decapitation which Coronado had performed, Texas respected him as he had never heretofore hoped to respect a "greaser." "Perhaps we can get information out of him," said Coronado.