"
"There's other ways of committing suicide," advised Mexican. "Why
don't you go and surrender to the sheriff?"
"I'll get him," said the Kid.
Christmas Eve fell as balmy as April. Perhaps there was a hint of
far-away frostiness in the air, but it tingles like seltzer, perfumed
faintly with late prairie blossoms and the mesquite grass.
When night came the five or six rooms of the ranch-house were
brightly lit. In one room was a Christmas tree, for the Lanes had a
boy of three, and a dozen or more guests were expected from the nearer
ranches.
At nightfall Madison Lane called aside Jim Belcher and three other
cowboys employed on his ranch.
"Now, boys," said Lane, "keep your eyes open. Walk around the house
and watch the road well. All of you know the 'Frio Kid,' as they call
him now, and if you see him, open fire on him without asking any
questions. I'm not afraid of his coming around, but Rosita is. She's
been afraid he'd come in on us every Christmas since we were married."
The guests had arrived in buckboards and on horseback, and were making
themselves comfortable inside.
The evening went along pleasantly. The guests enjoyed and praised
Rosita's excellent supper, and afterward the men scattered in groups
about the rooms or on the broad "gallery," smoking and chatting.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245