An elderly German with a candle admitted him.
"Well, I'm off," Rudolph said roughly.
"And time enough, too," said the German, gruffly.
Rudolph was sullenly silent. He was in this man's power, and he
knew it. But the German was ready enough to do his part. For
months he had been doing this very thing, starting through the
desert toward the south slackers and fugitives of all descriptions.
He gathered together the equipment, a map with water-holes marked,
a canteen covered with a dirty plaid-cloth casing, a small supply
of condensed foods, in tins mostly, and a letter to certain
Germans in Mexico City who would receive hospitably any American
fugitives and ask no questions.
"How about money?" Rudolph inquired.
The German shrugged his shoulders.
"You will not need money in the desert," he said. "And you haf
spent much money here, on the women. You should have safed it."
"I was told you would give me money."
But the German shook his head.
"You viii find money in Mexico City, if you get there," he said,
cryptically.
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