Littlefield went to the clerk of the court and looked over therecords with him. They decided that the letter might have been sent byMexico Sam, a half-breed border desperado who had been imprisonedfor manslaughter four years before. Then official duties crowded thematter from his mind, and the rattle of the revengeful serpent wasforgotten.
Court was in session at Brownsville. Most of the cases to be triedwere charges of smuggling, counterfeiting, post-office robberies, andviolations of Federal laws along the border. One case was that of ayoung Mexican, Rafael Ortiz, who had been rounded up by a cleverdeputy marshal in the act of passing a counterfeit silver dollar. He hadbeen suspected of many such deviations from rectitude, but this wasthe first time that anything provable had been fixed upon him. Ortizlanguished cozily in jail, smoking brown cigarettes and waiting fortrial. Kilpatrick, the deputy, brought the counterfeit dollar and handedit to the district attorney in his office in the court-house. The deputyand a reputable druggist were prepared to swear that Ortiz paid fora bottle of medicine with it. The coin was a poor counterfeit, soft,dull-looking, and made principally of lead. It was the day before themoming on which the docket would reach the case of Ortiz, and thedistrict attorney was preparing himself for trial.
"Not much need of having in high-priced experts to prove thecoins queer, is there, Kil？" smiled Littlefield, as he thumped the dollardown upon the table, where it fell with no more ring than would havecome from a lump of putty.
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