clearin' in the woods, and lo and behold! there stands a great big swell-lookin' hacienda, surrounded by high walls and patrolled by a pair of sentries, ragged and armed. Honest to Kansas, these babies was the two toughest-lookin' gorillas I have ever had the pleasure to witness in my life. Ptomaine Joe got pale and let out a gasp.
"For cryin' out loud!" he says. "Look at them mugs! I'd hate to have the pair of 'em choose me!"
Just then one of these murderous-lookin' jazzboes heard him, I guess, because he swung around sharply and aimed his gun at us. But when he seen Maida he brought the gun back to his shoulder, saluted, and kept on walkin' his beat without another glance at us. Three deep sighs of relief come from three manly bosoms.
"Well," says Kid Roberts with a grin, "this is indeed an eventful day in an adventurous country. Who lives in that—er—garrison, Miss Vane? I presume you know, since the sentry recognized you."
"That is the residence of Pancho Nogales," says Maida, returnin' his smile.
"Who's he?" asks Ptomaine, wipin' his forehead nervously. "Where does he rate a joint like that?"
"The Government furnished it," says Maida with another choice smile. "Is it possible you never heard of Pancho Nogales, the once famous bandit and revolutionist?"
"I am somewhat conversant with the career of Pancho Nogales," speaks up Kid Roberts, prob'ly so's she wouldn't think we was all a total loss. "And I must confess to a sneaking admiration for the old fellow's
