Maybe I can give you an idea of the Kid by what a feller told me he seen in a Mexican town in Chihuahua. When the word came in that the Kid had been sighted around those parts, they fetched in a section of the toughest rurales they could find, and they swore in a flock of extra deputies, and them gents that had extra-fine hosses. They led ‘em out of town and sneaked for the tall timber, and the women that had pretty daughters, they got ‘em indoors and turned the lock over ‘em, and sat down in front of the doors with the biggest butcher knives that they could sharpen upon the grindstone. And the gamblin’ house, it closed up and cached all of its workin’ money by buryin’ it real secret in the ground, and the big store, it closed and locked up all of its windows. It looked like that there town had gone to sleep. But it was lyin’ wide awake behind its shutters, like a cat. Well, down there in Mexico, they know the Kid a lot better than we do, and that’s the way they treat him there.
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