But now we care not to kill Mexicans, our own people.

It is only the miserable Texans who are really Gringos." Carlos, who had been the most amiable of men, basking in the firelight, now rose up a little and his eyes flashed.

He had excited himself by his own tale of the battle and loot of Zacatecas and the coming slaughter of the Texans.

That strain of cruelty, which in Ned's opinion always lay embedded in the Spanish character, was coming to the surface.
Ned made no comment.

His serape, drawn up to his nose, almost met the brim of his sombrero and nobody suspected that the comrade who sat and chatted with them was a Gringo, but he shivered again, nevertheless.
"We shall have a great force when it is all gathered," he said at length.
"Seven thousand men or more," said Jose proudly, "and nearly all of them are veterans of the wars.