Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1943-11-19
CHAPTER XII

morrow. 1t can very quickly be
solved if Lombardo and his man
Friday will catch up with Pedro.
Suppose we sleep on it."
We did sleep on it, rocking gen.
thy in our stateroom on board the
Orizaba anchored in the harbor. In
the light of a new day, after a lei
surely breakfast with Margaret and
Dwight, at which time we spoke
softly and with respect for the now
murdered James Chesebro, we wait
ed for the launch to take us ashore.
Suddenly Dwight's body stiffened.
Look! Did you see that?" he cried.
''Look!"
Before our eyes some hundreds of
yards away huge fish leaped clear
of the water and then fell back with
a great splash.
There's your marlin, darling"
said Margaret sweetly, come to
play with YOU"
Lets go fishing now" Dwight's
voice was excited. Come on, fell
lows
Sorry" said Rogers. "I'd
planned some other things-about
Chesebro's slayer"
well, go on, then; the launch is
waiting for you. AS soon as it's
back I'm going after that fellow.
Hunting me up, is he? Wanting to
play with me?" said Dwight as Rog-
ers and went down the ladder.
We landed at the wharf, found one
of those ancient two-wheeled aranas
like the one Elsa had ridden in that
first day, climbed in and set off.
Its probably like hunting for the
needle in the haystack, Barry" he
remarked, after an extended con-
versation with the driver which ex-
plored the fellows acquaintance
among the pulque sellers. At first
the driver, sleepy-eyed fellow with
a bushy mustache, had not been able
to comprehend why we should
search for pulque seller when liq-
uor of many kinds was easily OBJ
tainable almost anywhere. When he
realized, however, that we were
looking for a particular dealer in
pulque, he believed that he knew
several Pedros. And so we started
out.
We stopped at one matched hut
which our driver said was the home
of Pedro, the pulque seller. But
the man who answered Rogers sum-
mons was fat and small, with
smile that was well nigh irresistible.
Did we wish to buy pulque? He in
Dictated a nearby continuance which
was just frame on wheels with
holes for the brown clay jars. No,
we did not. We sought Pedro, the
pulque seller, who was a thin man
with small eyes. He knew such
man farther down the street, and
counted the houses for US and babe
US a courteous good morning. But
the second Pedro was not our pulque
man, either.
At last our dispirited horse pulled
up with a sigh before a matched
hut near the end of the street.
A small shy woman came to the
door when Rogers knocked.
Does Pedro. the pulque seller
live here. senora?" Rogers inquired
in Spanish.
eyes, sir" the woman replied hes
itantly, a frightened look in her
deep, dark eyes.
SIS he Pedro, the pulque seller,
who last evening went to deliver
pulque at the rancho of Senior Chat
field?"
Eyes, sir"
MAY we speak with Pedro, Sc
nora?" inquired Rogers, smiling.
The woman shook her head vague
ly. Finally she said: HE is not at
home, sir"
"Where can I find him?"
"He is away, sir"
'When will he return"
The woman shook her head and
did not reply.
He is away, sir" she repeated.
We were getting nowhere. Rop-
ers suddenly looked up at the little
green parrot overhead, held up a
forefinser invitingly against the
green breast and the parrot prompt
ly climbed on and was lowered to
the level of our eyes.
"lieil ilS SdilCSJ ScllOl IlOS-
ers asked.
"He is called Pope, sir"
"He is not young bird, sonora,
the yellow patch of feathers on his
head is large. 1t is, like gray hair
with us, sign of age"
Eyes, sir; he is very DID,
'Did your husband return home
last night from his trip to the rancho
of Senior Chatfield?"
Briefly, sir; and then made haste
to depart"
ibid he go far, senora?"
'To the mountains, SIR" she re-
piled, with gesture that indicated
the distant range.
"And he will return soon?"
The woman shook her head. He