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- Стр. 191/662
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"
Then
the
Comanches
shall
scalp
him
,
ñor
capitan
.
You
may
return
to
Casa
del
Corvo
,
and
go
to
sleep
with
confidence
that
whenever
the
opportunity
arrives
,
your
enemy
will
lose
his
hair
.
You
understand
?
"
"
I
do
.
"
"
Get
ready
your
thousand
pesos
.
"
"
They
wait
your
acceptance
.
"
"
Carajo
!
I
shall
earn
them
in
a
trice
.
Adios
!
Adios
!
"
"
Santissima
Virgen
!
"
exclaimed
the
profane
ruffian
,
as
his
visitor
limped
out
of
sight
.
"
What
a
magnificent
fluke
of
fortune
!
A
perfect
chiripé
.
A
thousand
dollars
for
killing
the
man
I
intended
to
kill
on
my
own
account
,
without
charging
anybody
a
single
claco
for
the
deed
!
"
The
Comanches
upon
the
war
trail
!
Chingaro
!
can
it
be
true
?
If
so
,
I
must
look
up
my
old
disguise
--
gone
to
neglect
through
these
three
long
years
of
accursed
peace
.
Viva
la
guerra
de
los
Indios
!
Success
to
the
pantomime
of
the
prairies
!
"
Louise
Poindexter
,
passionately
addicted
to
the
sports
termed
"
manly
,
"
could
scarce
have
overlooked
archery
.
She
had
not
.
The
how
,
and
its
adjunct
the
arrow
,
were
in
her
hands
as
toys
which
she
could
control
to
her
will
.
She
had
been
instructed
in
their
manège
by
the
Houma
Indians
;
a
remnant
of
whom
--
the
last
descendants
of
a
once
powerful
tribe
--
may
still
be
encountered
upon
the
"
coast
"
of
the
Mississippi
,
in
the
proximity
of
Point
Coupé
and
the
bayou
Atchafalaya
.
