in watching him pack. They realized
that he knew his business. But Pete was not through with them yet.
When he had the burros in shape to travel he picked up the stick with
which he hazed them and faced the group. What he said to them was
enough with some to spare for future cogitation. He surpassed mere
invective with flaming innuendos as to the ancestry, habits, and
appearance of these special gentlemen and of Mexicans in general. He
knew Mexicans and knew where he could hit hardest. He wound up with
gentle intimation that the town would have made a respectable pigsty,
but that a decent pig would have a hard time keeping his self-respect
among so many descendants of the canine tribe. It was a beautiful, an
eloquent piece of work, and even as he delivered it he felt rather
proud of his command of the Mexican idiom. Then he made a mistake. He
promptly turned his back and started the burros toward the distant
camp. Had he kept half an eye on the boys he might have avoided
trouble. But he had turned his back. They thought that he was both
angry and afraid. They also made a slight mistake. The youth who had
borrowed the tobacco and who had taken most of Pete's eloquence to
heart--for he had inspired it--called the dog that lay back of them in
the shade and set him on Pete and the burros. If a burro hates
anything it is to be attacked by a dog. Pete whirled and swung his
stick. The dog, a huge, lean, coyote-faced animal, dodged and snapped
at the nearest burro's heels. That placid animal promptly bucked and
ran. His brother burro took the cue and did likewise. Presently the
immediate half-mile square was decorated with loose provisions--sugar,
beans, flour, a few cans of tomatoes, and chiles broken from the sack
and strung out in every direction. The burros became a seething cloud
of dust in the distance. Pete chased the dog which naturally circled
and ran back of the group of the store. Older Mexicans gathered and
laughed. The boys, feeling secure in the presence of their seniors,
added their shrill yelps of pleasure. Pete, boiling internally,
white-faced and altogether too quiet, slowly gathered up what
provisions were usable. Presently he came upon his gun, which had been
bucked from the pack-saddle. The Mexicans were still laughing when he
strode back to the store. The dog, scenting trouble, bristled and
snarled, baring his long fangs and standing with one forefoot raised.
Before the assembly