"Si, si—mil gracias, senor." Ylario tried to kneel upon
the floor in his gratitude, but the cattleman kicked at him
benevolently, growling, "None of your opery-house antics, now."
Ten minutes later Ylario came from McGuire's room and stood
before Raidler.
"The little senor," he announced, "presents his
compliments" (Raidler credited Ylario with the preliminary) "and
desires some pounded ice, one hot bath, one gin feez-z, that the
windows be all closed, toast, one shave, one Newyorkheral',
cigarettes, and to send one telegram."
Raidler took a quart bottle of whisky from his medicine cabinet.
"Here, take him this," he said.
Thus was instituted the reign of terror at the Solito Ranch. For
a few weeks McGuire blustered and boasted and swaggered before the
cow- punchers who rode i
