If some action doesn't come
soon, it'll be darned strange. Things are centering this way.
There's scrapping right along, and people have begun to move.
We're still patrolling the line eastward of Casita. It'll be
impossible to keep any tab on the line west of Casita, for it's
too rough. That cactus desert is awful. Cowboys or rangers
with desert-bred horses might keep raiders and smugglers from crossing.
But if cavalrymen could stand that waterless wilderness, which I doubt much,
their horses would drop under them.
If things do quiet down before my commission expires, I'll get
leave of absence, run out to Forlorn River, marry my beautiful
Spanish princess, and take her to a civilized country, where, I
opine, every son of a gun who sees her will lose his head, and
drive me mad. It's my great luck, old pal, that you are a fellow
who never seemed to care about pretty girls. So you won't give
me the double cross and run off with Mercedes--carry her off,
like the villain in the play, I mean.
That reminds me of Rojas. Oh, Dick, it was glorious! You didn't
do anything to the Dandy Rebel! Not at all! You merely caressed
him--gently moved him to one side. Dick, harken to these glad
words: Rojas is in the hospital. I was interested to inquire.
He had a smashed finger, a dislocated collar bone, three broken
ribs, and a fearful gash on his face. He'll be in the hospital for
a month. Dick, when I meet that pig-headed dad of yours I'm
going to give him the surprise of his life.
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