A moment later he emerged with a huge armful of
bedclothes, evidently snatched at random. Trailing behind him,
like a bridal veil, was a mosquito-net, which in his haste he had
torn from its fastenings.
"I guess this is poor!" he exulted. "Bedding! Pillows! Mosquito-
net! I'll sleep comfortable after this."
From somewhere came the faint smothered wailing of a baby--
eloquent testimony of the precipitate haste with which the
terrified storekeeper and his wife had fled. Dumping his burden of
sheets, blankets, and brilliantly colored cotton quilts upon the
floor, Branch selected two of the stoutest and began to knot the
corners together.
He had scarcely finished when Judson reined in at the door and
called to O'Reilly: "We've cleaned out the drugstore. Better get a
move on you, for we may have to run any minute. I've just heard
about some Cuban prisoners in the calaboose. Gimme a hand and
we'll let 'em out."
"Sure!" O'Reilly quickly remounted, meanwhile directing Jacket to
load the canned goods upon his horse and ride for the open
country. He looked back a few moments later, to see his asistente
emerge from the bodega perched between two queer-looking
improvised saddlebags bulging with plunder. The pony was
overloaded, but in obedience to the frantic urgings of its
barelegged rider it managed to break into a shambling trot.
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