Reputation
“El Tigre! Madre de Dios!” A man must indeed have the soul of adevil to draw such an exclamation at the mere mention of his name.
“The Tiger! Mother of God!”
We of Santa Ynez, a little handful of folks living in a little missionvillage, near the Mexican border, knew him only by reputation. Butthat was enough.
Riders dropped in at the little cantina and over their cups oftequila or warm beer would tell us of some new deviltry done by JeffTigard, the killer. And Felipe’s hands trembled as he drew the beer,while we laughed at him for being such a coward.
What would the Tiger do in Santa Ynez, we asked each other. There isnothing for him here.
“Who knows, señores?” trembled Felipe. “Always the tales come closerto Santa Ynez. Some day he will come.”
“Perhaps to cut off your ears,” laughed Ramon, who is very brave. “Ihear that the Tiger strings them on a gold thread and wears them for agirdle.”
“Diable!” swore Mendez, whose fierce beard belies his character.“Are we weaklings? One man—bah! Tiger, indeed! The devil may own hissoul, but his body is mortal—and mortal man dies.”
Mendez gulped his warm beer and waited for someone to challenge hisstatement.
It was very warm in the little, one-story adobe cantina; too warm forheated argument, even over the Tiger.
“Mendez speaks true,” nodded Pasquale, who is not a Mexican, butItalian. “Mortal man dies—when he is killed. That is the point,compadres. This Tiger will most surely die—when he is killed. Morebeer, Felipe.”
“But why should the Tiger come to Santa Ynez?” asked Felipe nervously,clattering the mug-bottoms on the rough table-top.
“Dios!” swore Mendez angrily. “One might think he had sent you amessage, Felipe. You are like a timid hen which hears the rustle of ahawk’s wings in every stirring breeze.”
Ramon laughed softly and drained his mug.
“Why should we have fear of that man? It is true that he has the soulof a devil. Men have told us that he is without a conscience and thathe kills men for sport. It must be so.
“But we of Santa Ynez need not fear this man. We live at peace witheveryone. Our vineyards are loaded, the hills are dotted with ourcattle and horses and there is nothing but good in our hearts. Thereremains only the fact that Felipe serves his beer too warm.”
Ramon laughed joyously and slapped Mendez on the back.
“Is is not so, compadre? We do not fear the Tiger, eh?”
“Fear?” Mendez rumbled deep in his beard. “I fear no man. I amMendez.”
“And thou art full of warm beer,” stated Pasquale, laughing loudly.
Mendez joined the laugh, even at his own expense, for Mendez was fullof beer, which always makes him boastful, but not angry.
It was very hot in Santa Ynez, as I have said before, but that day itwas oppressive. The very sky seemed to press down upon the earth. Eventhe cattle seemed to s