"She won't bite you."
"I was worrying," said Roger.
"Ramos!" called the woman. "There are some strange men here. Come,
Flossy."
Payne found himself facing a tall dark man, with a hook nose, rings in
his ears and a stringy mustache. The man placed himself full in the
path leading to the little lake, and lazily, insolently studied the
intruding pair.
"You wish to see some one?" he drawled.
"You, greaser!" blurted Higgins in anger. "Hanged if I've seen such a
sassy half-breed since I left Mexico."
The man's lazy-lidded eyes narrowed to a slit. He came forward.
"Unless you are known you had better go elsewhere," he murmured.
"Really?" said Payne.
"Don't bother to be polite to him," growled Higgins. "Can't you see
he's a greaser? Get out of the way, _hombre_; we want to talk to some
one with brains."
Payne caught the engineer by the shoulder and held him back.
"We just want directions for getting up to the headwaters," he said.
"I still repeat: unless you are known, you had better go elsewhere."
"That's what we want to do. We're going up to the headwaters. This
place happens to be on our way."
"You are not known here?"
"No."
"Then go back." The Mexican pointed toward the path whence they had
come.
"Go back where you came from--and quickly.
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