Methuen wriggled himself into a corner of the hut, rested his shoulders
against the _adobe_ wall, and made himself as comfortable as the
raw-hide thongs with which he was tied up would permit. “Well, Calvert,”
said he, “I hope you quite realise what an extremely ugly hole we’re
in?”
“Garcia will hang the pair of us before sunset,” I replied, “and that’s
a certainty. My only wonder is we haven’t been strung up before this.”
“You think a rope and a tree’s a sure thing, do you? I wish I could
comfort myself with that idea. I wouldn’t mind a simple gentlemanly dose
of hanging. But there are more things in heaven and earth, Calvert——” He
broke off and whistled drearily.