And Pablo, on that fateful day, did not disappoint his master's
expectations. Old he was, and stiff and creaky of joint, but what he
lacked in physical prowess he possessed in guile. Forbidden to follow
his natural inclination, which was to stab the potato baron frequently
and fatally with a businesslike dirk which was never absent from his
person except when he slept, Pablo had recourse to another artifice of
his peculiar calling--to wit, the rawhide riata.
As Okada emerged from the dining-room into the patio, Pablo entered
from the rear gate, riata in hand; as the Japanese crossed the garden
to his room in the opposite wing of the hacienda, Pablo made a deft
little cast and dropped his loop neatly over the potato baron's body,
pinioning the latter's arms securely to his sides. Keeping a stiff
strain on the riata, Pablo drew his victim swiftly toward the porch,
round an upright of which he had taken a hitch; in a surprisingly brief
period, despite the Jap's frantic efforts to release himself, Pablo had
his man lashed firmly to the porch column, whereupon he proceeded to
flog his prisoner with a heavy quirt which, throughout the operation,
had dangled from his left wrist. With each blow, old Pablo tossed a
pleasantry at his victim, who took the dreadful scourging without an
outcry, never ceasing a dogged effort to twist loose from his bonds
until his straining and flinching loosed the ancient rusty nails at top
and bottom of the upright, and, with a crash, the Oriental fell
headlong backward on the porch, as a tree falls.
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