He ended by saying
tersely, "My reputation and standing of company here at stake," and signed his
name in a hasty scrawl that made the operator scratch his ear reflectively
with his pencil when he had counted the words down to the signature. After
that, Luck gave every ounce of his energy and every bit of his brain to the
outfitting of the expedition.
So well did he accomplish the task that by one O'clock that night a low-voiced
company of men rode away from a livery stable in the heart of the, town,
leading four pack-horses and heading as straight as might be for the bridge.
They met no one; they saw scarcely a light in any of the windows that they
passed. A chill wind crept up the river so that they buttoned their coats when
the hoofbeats of the horses sounded hollow on the bridge. Out through the lane
that leads to Atrisco, which slept in the stolid blackness of low adobe houses
with flat roofs and tiny windows, they rode at a trot. Dogs barked, ran but to
the road and barked again, ran back to the adobe huts and kept on barking. In
one field some loose horses, seeing so many of their kind in the lane,
galloped up to the fence and stood there snorting.
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