"'It's a long trail back,' says Enright,' an' I don't like this yarn
enough to find myse'f relatin' it to any excessive degrees. It draws
the cinch some tight an' painful, an' I don't teach my mind to dwell
on it no more'n is necessary.
"'This is all when I'm a boy; mebby I ain't twenty years yet. It's
durin' the Mexican war. I gets a stack of white chips an' stands in
on the deal in a boyish way. All I saveys of the war is it's ag'in
the Mexicans, which, while I ain't got no feud with 'em personal at
the time, makes it plenty satisfactory to me.
"'It's down off two days to the west of Chihuahua, an' seven of us
is projectin' 'round seein' whatever can we tie down an' brand, when
some Mexicans gets us out on a limb. It ain't a squar' deal; still I
reckons it's squar' enough, too; only bein' what you-alls calls
strategic, it's offensive an' sneakin' as a play.
"'This yere lieutenant who's leadin' us 'round permiscus, looks like
he's some romantic about a young Mexican female, who's called the
Princess of Casa Grande. Which the repoote of this yere Princess
woman is bad, an' I strikes a story several times of how she's that
incensed ag'in Americans she once saws off a thimbleful of loco on a
captain in some whiskey he's allowin' to drink, an' he goes plumb
crazy an' dies.
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