with a leer. "This is the real McCoy, and I'm feelin' pretty low. Here's a go!"
Well, durin' the next couple of hours I thought Pancho Nogales about the most interestin' old guy I ever met in my life, I did for a fact. He spoke as good English as you or me, prob'ly better than me, told a mean story, and thoroughly enjoyed one. We was all surprised by the line he had on big sportin' events, till he explained that he had lived a great many years in the United States as a special agent of his government, before he got sick and tired of the wages and throwed a revolution. He'd seen a flock of championship box fights and was a sixty-fourth degree fan. He'd fully intended to have a ringside seat at the comin' fight between Kid Roberts and Bob Young if the local officials hadn't stepped in and gummed things up.
All durin' our talk, various ragged, dirty, and tough-lookin' cholos passed in and out, respectfully salutin' Pancho and givin' us nasty looks. After a while these babies got on my nerves, and I made bold to ask Pancho who they was. Pancho smiles and says they're just a few of his faithful right-hand men which the Government has allowed to serve him in his old age. He called some of 'em over and introduced 'em, tellin' us blood-curdlin' stories about the choice crimes they had committed whilst in his service, and we learned about villains from him!
Pretty soon Pancho got up and says he'll show over the hacienda. I been in some swell dumps in my time and read about others, but I never seen or heard of nothin' to equal the class, wealth, or magnificence
