human
What the deuce has got into Blossom? inquired Clayley;
gpt
Why, what was the matter, Major?
human
Matter! replied he, with one of his direst imprecations;
gpt
Works! echoed I, in some surprise;
human
I mean works--that's all. There's a stockade ten feet high, as full as it can stick of them.
gpt
Full of what?
human
Full of the enemy--full of rancheros. I saw their ugly copper faces--a dozen of them at least--looking at me over the pickets; and, sure as heaven, if I had gone ten paces farther they would have riddled me like a target.
gpt
But, Major, they were only peaceable rancheros--cow-herds--nothing more.
human
Cow-herds! I tell you, Captain, that those two that galloped off had a sword apiece strapped to their saddles. I saw them when I got near: they were decoys to bring us up to that stockade--I'll bet my life upon it!
gpt
Well, Major, rejoined I,